


GET YOUR HEART ON, MXFXCKER

by seizethejongdae



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Blood, Bombs, Death, Guns, Heavy Violence, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Murder, Needles, disturbing imagery, language so explicit this could almost be deadpool passing, legalized murder 420 raze it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 05:49:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 141,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16362059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seizethejongdae/pseuds/seizethejongdae
Summary: SP: Jongin spends his days working at D.O.U.C.H.E. (The Department of Undeniably Civil, Humane Exterminations) sorting through legal petitions that request the death of unlucky individuals. He thought long hours and piles of paperwork were supposed to be his only problems until an assassin pays him a visit one night asking him for help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All my love and thanks to:
> 
> ϟ the sweetest exogeddon mods for all their patience, hard work, and support. There is no better team of mods I know, and exogeddon truly is the golden standard of fests. I'm always in awe of all your talent and creativity wow queens!!
> 
> ϟ J, the loml who has my whole entire heart, who I love with the biggest big heart energy in the world, and without whomst I would've absolutely never finished this fic. 
> 
> ϟ M, my angel who i'd steal the stars in the sky for, who i'd punch the sun out for, and who inventeD the definition of love ily
> 
> ϟ Jongdae and Sehun, best boys in the whole universe thanks for my life kings.

“You know why you’re here,” a voice announced after the door swung open with a slam. A man entered, briskly striding into the shadows of the room. 

Jongin squinted from where he sat, only managing to spot a dark red tie and a hand clenching a file before he was forced to avert his gaze to avoid the harsh light of the lamp hanging above him. But he recognized the voice anyways, not needing to see the man’s face to know who he was.

The man slowed down, and as he took his time to approach Jongin, the darkness shifted to reveal a face with no wrinkles. Nothing but a momentarily neutral expression, soon disrupted by a sudden, slight scowl. If this was the man leading the investigation, Jongin should have been more concerned than he actually was.

The Director could not be lied to after all.

“Right?” the Director spoke again as he stepped into the light.

Jongin nodded once. 

“Then tell me why you are here,” the Director said, throwing a file onto the metal desk between them. 

“I’m here for an interrogation,” Jongin said. He twisted his wrists, rattling the tight cuffs that chained him to the arms of the chair. The cuff on his left hand was clamped awkwardly to accommodate another glowing green bracelet that Jongin wore on his hand, identical to the one the Director wore. 

Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. Hopefully he wouldn’t die here. Hopefully he’d survive this interrogation without even thinking of lying. 

“For what case?” the Director asked. 

Jongin resisted the urge to let out a long sigh. Did it really need saying? 

“A past case that you wanted to re-evaluate even though it’s already been closed,” Jongin said, struggling to keep his tone from shifting into one the Director wouldn’t appreciate. 

Jongin didn’t know why it was necessary for the case to be examined this year, as it had already been examined and re-examined twice in the past. Once last year, once the year before that. Nonetheless, because this was the third time, the third year, Jongin felt fine. Prepared. Honest. 

“Yes,” the Director said, nodding as he slid the file closer to himself. “This is exactly why you are here. Remember that there is nothing you can do to stop us from finding the truth. We always know when you lie, after all.”

“Yeah. All right,” Jongin said, biting back the _whatever_ that was threatening to fall out of his mouth. 

The Director turned and gave a nod to those who stood behind the mirrored glass on the left side of the room. Jongin turned to look into the glass, unsure of who was watching him from the other side. He stared as long as he dared, unable to see anything but a blurry, distorted reflection of himself.

He blinked.

His reflection blinked back. 

He leaned back into his chair.

His reflection breathed back. 

He took in a deep breath. 

His reflection stared back. 

Jongin snapped his gaze back in front of him as the door opened once more. Two androids wheeled in a boxy, black machine and parked it behind Jongin’s chair. Without speaking, the first android shoved Jongin against the back of the chair and grabbed his shoulder tightly, digging their fingers into his shoulder to prevent him from moving. Though for what reason, Jongin didn’t know. It wasn’t like he could actually free himself from all of this, like he would resist and run. Like he had anything to be scared of. 

At least that’s what he told himself. 

The other android uncuffed Jongin from the arms of the chair before attaching wires and clips to a few of his fingers before attempting to rip his shirt open. Jongin knocked the hands away and unbuttoned his shirt himself before letting out a sharp inhale as electrode pads were roughly placed on his chest. 

The two androids then disappeared behind him, but Jongin didn’t have to turn around to know what was next.

He had been through this several times before, but he was never truly prepared for the way a heavy metal cage was tightly clamped around his chest. Jongin slowly exhaled, adjusting to the cold metal against his skin. Too bad the most sophisticated lie detection technology couldn’t be more comfortable. Too bad it was designed to constrict the interrogated person so tightly that there was no way any lies could pass for truths. Too bad his heart couldn’t stutter even once without exposing something wrong, something hidden.

Jongin already felt like he was suffocating.

Really, he always thought it was too excessive. Perhaps it was only used for dramatic purposes. After all, the glowing bracelets around everyone’s wrists served the same purpose and functioned as accurate lie detectors anyways.

But this was a very sensitive matter, a case not even top members of government had access to, so Jongin at least attempted to understand why they were suffocating him under the excuse of interrogation. 

The two androids finally left the room, leaving Jongin with the Director who had turned his attention to the right wall. Jongin watched him tap a few spots on the wall before glowing green lines pulsed throughout the room, signaling that the systems had been turned on. The screen flickered to life, and another green light danced on the wall, steadily mirroring his heartbeat.

“Your heart rate is slightly above resting,” the Director said, staring at the numerical report posted on the screen for a while longer before walking back towards the table, “Are you nervous, Jongin? Do you have anything to hide?”

“If you didn’t find anything the first few times, I doubt you’d find anything now,” Jongin said. If he could’ve leaned back into his chair, he would have. “I told the truth then, and I’ll tell you it again.”

The Director said nothing in response, the screech of his chair speaking for him as he pulled it backwards and sat in front of Jongin. 

“Of course,” the Director said, folding his hands on top of the metal table, “This is just a precaution, Jongin. You’re a fine employee and a good asset, so we’d never doubt you.” 

The rest of the sentiments drifted in the silence, unsaid, but understood.

Unless Jongin had given them reason to doubt of course. 

And he must have, since he was here for a third year in a row since the incident. 

“Alright,” the Director said, lifting the folder up and opening it slightly so only he could view what was inside, “I don’t want to waste our time, so cooperate, and you’ll get to go home soon. Assuming you give the same answers you’ve always given and pass this interrogation.” 

Jongin stole a peek at the screen on his right, observing his pulse for a moment as he struggled to breathe through his constraints. There was nothing he could do about this interrogation, as he could either tell the truth or fail. No one could fool the lie detectors. Not any criminals, any corrupt politicians, or anyone at all. 

So Jongin had two choices. 

Tell the truth.

Lie and fail. 

Lie and face the consequences. 

Lie and die. 

Of course, the punishments for lying were not as severe as the Director made them sound, but Jongin was still cautious. 

“Can we get on with this already?” Jongin asked, “I’m tired.”

“It’s only been seven minutes,” the Director said, “You’ll survive.” 

Jongin slowly exhaled, hoping to slow his pulse. But his heart never listened to him and continued beating slightly above an average resting rate. Slightly above normal. Slightly above nothing suspicious at all. 

“I’ll ask a few test questions first,” the Director said.

“Just ask,” Jongin said tilting his head, “Get on with it then.” 

The Director stared directly at Jongin who mimicked the gesture and refused to look away from the Director’s gaze no matter how uncomfortable it was. Looking away was a sign of concealed truths, and Jongin had nothing to hide, no lies to tell. 

“What is your name?” the Director asked. 

“Kim Jongin,” Jongin said. 

The screen beside them and the bracelet on Jongin’s wrist marked no change. 

Truth. 

An easy truth. 

“How old are you?” the Director asked. 

“Twenty-five,” Jongin said.

The screen flashed red, his bracelet buzzed, and an alarm began blaring. 

“I asked for your cooperation, Jongin,” the Director said, standing up to jab the screen a few times, resetting the red to green, the alarms to silence.

“Sorry,” Jongin said. 

As the monitor flashed red again, Jongin allowed himself a small smile. The Director glared at him before resetting the screen once more. 

“Your age, Jongin,” the Director said after he returned to the table. This time, he remained standing, not bothering to sit if Jongin would lie again. “What is your correct age?”

“Twenty-eight,” Jongin conceded, “but I’ve been told I look younger. It really depends on what clothes I’m wearing and how I’m styling my hair. If my bangs are down, then—” 

“Don’t stall,” the Director cut him off.

“Well, you asked,” Jongin said. He would’ve shrugged if he could actually move his shoulders. 

“How many sisters do you have?” the Director asked. 

“Two,” Jongin said. 

After the screens showed no change, the Director plucked some papers out of the folder and placed them on the table. After Jongin glanced at what he had been shown, the monitor immediately beeped once to signal an increase in heart rate. 

“You broke into my _house_?” Jongin asked, struggling to keep his voice level, “You’ve never done this before. Why did you take my things?”

“Who wrote you these letters?” the director asked instead, pointing to the letters. The papers were crinkled and the ink slightly faded. 

“My mom,” Jongin said after a pause. Even though they had broken into his house, there was still nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. All he had to do was tell the truth, just like he had done the previous two times, and he would be fine. Things would be fine. So there was nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing at all. 

“And these pictures?” the Director asked, sliding a few pictures in front of Jongin one by one, “Who are these people?”

“Come on,” Jongin sighed, “It took me so long to arrange those photos on my wall. Did you really have to take everything?”  

“An investigation is an investigation, Jongin,” the Director said, “We take anything that can be used as test questions or evidence. So answer the question.” 

“That’s my niece,” Jongin said, staring at the smiling baby on the photos, “Isn’t she cute?” 

The Director waited for any indication that Jongin was lying, but after there was none, he snatched up all the photos and letters and placed them in the back of the file.

“I’ll get those back after this is over, right?” Jongin asked. He only received a glare in return.

“No more test questions. We’ll ask you questions directly relating to the investigation from now on,” the Director said. 

“Good,” Jongin said, “I was so afraid you’d start asking me what color my underwear is, and honestly we’re not that close, so I wouldn’t have been comfortable sharing that information.”

“Stop stalling,” the Director snapped, “What do you have to hide?”

“Nothing at all,” Jongin said, taking care to maintain a completely neutral expression. 

The Director observed him for a moment longer in silence before pulling out two more photos and laying them on the table. As Jongin studied the photos, the monitor beeped to signal an abrupt increase in pulse.

“Tell me, Jongin,” the Director said, “Why did your pulse increase when I laid these pictures on the table?”

“Fear,” Jongin said. 

The monitor was still green.

“Come on,” Jongin said after noticing the Director’s expression, “You’re telling me you wouldn’t be afraid of the world’s deadliest people?” 

“Watch your mouth,” the Director ordered, mechanically turning his neck to study the monitor again. Jongin was sure nothing satisfied or dissatisfied him about the current results, but with no lies, the Director had no choice but to turn back and continue. 

“Tell me who this is,” the Director, pointing at the first picture. 

"I thought we were done with test questions," Jongin said. 

" _Tell me_ ," the Director repeated, tapping his finger impatiently on top of the photograph. 

Jongin lowered his gaze to the photograph. The picture had probably been stolen off of some grainy security camera, and though it was slightly pixelated, Jongin could still see enough. A man with a black scarf wrapped around his neck wearing a black jacket with thin, vertical, silver stripes. Dark glasses hid his eyes, and headphones covered his ears. 

“That’s Kim Jongdae,” Jongin said, “Assassin.”

“And this?” the Director said, pointing to the next picture. 

The next picture only captured a blur, a man in the process of looking over his shoulder as the camera shot him. A black cap concealed his face, revealing only pink lips. One of his hands were shoved inside the pocket of a dark leather jacket. The other tightly clenched a gun.

“Oh Sehun,” Jongin said, “Assassin.” 

“Your purpose is clear,” the Director said, satisfied with Jongin’s answers, “Tell me how your paths crossed. Conceal no detail, bury no truth. If you lie, we will know. If you fail to tell the truth, we will know. If you are hiding something, we will know. We always know.” 

Jongin nodded and took a shallow breath, wondering how he’d survive everything if he already felt suffocated. 

“And especially,” the Director said, leaning across the table as he stared at Jongin with unblinking eyes. 

“Tell me how they died.”

 

 

ϟ

 

 

Three years ago, Jongin worked at D.O.U.C.H.E. 

It was a desk job, a nine to five job…a simple job Jongin gave no further thought to after his shift ended. 

Or at least he tried.

Because D.O.U.C.H.E did not stand for Dogs, Our Universally Celebrated, Happy Equals, or even Damn, Our Utopia Chose Everyone. But rather the Department Of Undeniably Civil, Humane Exterminations.

Jongin’s branch in D.O.U.C.H.E oversaw extermination requests placed by civilians who wanted a specific target dead. Jongin had the unfortunate job of sifting through such petitions and deciding which cases were valid and could be forwarded for further processing.  

Every day was the same, but the petitions he processed were not. Sure, there were a few common reasons that would provoke an individual into filling out stacks of paperwork in the hopes of putting someone down. There were neighbor disputes. Messy family businesses. Dares between friends. But Jongin was continually surprised about the justifications these petitioners presented him. All excuses to kill.

Or, exterminated, like the acronym suggested. 

Or, as Jongin would rather say to himself, murdered.

It didn’t matter how many synonyms the word had, how many nuances the act contained. It was what it was. Murder. 

Jongin honestly didn’t know what the politicians in the past century were thinking when they made murder legal. Just paperwork people filled out in the same way they filled out requests for loans, for marriages, for jobs. Maybe it was an attempt to force murderers out of the shadows and into the light. Maybe it was an experiment to prove how human hearts burned dark instead of bright. But for whatever reason, the number of extermination petitions only increased year by year. 

So Jongin was stuck here in his office preparing for another late night, struggling to keep his eyes open as he suffered through another long file. The intern in charge of summarizing the whole petition had bulleted the case for him, but Jongin still struggled to read it. It wasn’t exactly his fault or this petition’s fault. Work had run late yesterday, so he hadn’t slept to survive today. Nevertheless, he promised himself he’d finish three more petitions and then take a lunch break. 

 

REASONS FOR TERMINATION/ERADICATION:

\- Bad person

\- Worse gardener

\- Worst neighbor

\- Will not comply to requests to keep the noise down.

\- Has trained his dogs to bark during the hours I am trying to sleep.

 

Jongin sighed. Would the people involved even be neighbors in a couple of years? It was such a petty thing to file a petition over, but then again. He recalled a petition that demanded the extermination of someone because they had eaten forbidden fridge leftovers the petitioner had wanted to eat. 

Jongin flipped through this petition, studying the status of the target the petitioner wanted dead. He was a baker who worked six days a week at his bakery and one day a week at the shelter to feed others. The world was not better off without his existence, it seemed, and one neighbor could live with a little noise. 

Jongin picked up a stamp, rolled it around red ink, and slammed it at the top of the petition.

 

REJECTED

 

He dropped the stamp back on the pad, accidentally smearing his thumb with red ink. As he dropped the rejected petition into its proper stack, he let out a long yawn and stretched, glancing at the chrome clock in the corner of his office. With every passing tick and tock, his lunch break was at risk of disappearing completely.  

But unlike some of his co-workers who stamped ACCEPTED on every petition in order to make it home on time, Jongin was careful with these petitions no matter how sleepy he might be. So even though he’d like nothing more than to sneak a nap during work hours or cut straight to lunch, he pulled the next petition in front of him and started reading.

 

REASONS FOR TERMINATION:

\- refused polite request for date

\- did nothing when her friends mocked me

\- still refuses to acknowledge my existence after all the time I spent sending her messages and flowers and food.

 

Jongin didn't need to read anything below that.

 

REJECTED

 

Jongin let out a laugh and shook his head, dropping that into the stack of other rejects where it belonged.

The next petition, however, made the laughter fade fast.

 

REASONS FOR TERMINATION:

\- Is a threat to society

\- Harmed me

\- Caused my hospitalization

\- I cannot wait for the courts to give him his sentence.

\- I humbly request his death now.

 

Jongin pressed his lips together and read through the file. Some drunken man had assaulted another person so violently that it had taken the victim a month to recover in the hospital. Jongin winced as he looked at the photos the victim provided of their injuries and hastily turned the pages until he found the hospital bill. Thousands of dollars in charges. Something the victim would not be able to afford at the moment. 

His co-workers wouldn’t even hesitate with their verdict at this point, but Jongin read through the file two more times, compared the case against protocol, against precedent cases. And finally, when he felt there was nothing logical to change his mind, he picked up another stamp and pressed it against green ink, as green as the glowing bracelet he wore on his left wrist. His hand hovered above the paper, casting a shadow on the cover page before he slammed the stamp downwards.  

 

ACCEPTED

 

Jongin then placed the file on a vacant corner of his desk. The first accepted petition of the day. As he let out another yawn, Jongin leaned back into his chair and stretched. He swiveled around and twisted open the blinds to reveal gray clouds cluttering the horizon, shielding the sun even though it was only the start of the afternoon. Another nice day. Another wonderfully nice day. 

Jongin sighed and stared at the ceiling. He would have preferred to work one floor above this one in a completely different department, but he had transferred to D.O.U.C.H.E for a reason. Well, maybe two or three. But none of them was because he had wanted this new job. 

Jongin stood up, making sure he had taken his wallet and his bag before he eagerly strode out of his office. As he walked down the hall passing by a few potted plants that management had installed to give more life to the department, Jongin nodded to his co-workers also beginning their lunch break. A few of them asked if he wanted to grab some lunch with them, but he politely refused. It was safer that way. During the elevator ride that took them from their twentieth floor to the lobby, he pulled out his phone, clicked on a contact, typed a question, and found his fingers freezing just in time to save him from sending a text he would regret. 

He deleted the request to eat and shoved his phone and his hands back into his pockets. Every time the elevator stopped and its doors slid open to accept more people inside, Jongin hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself as tiny as possible in an attempt to not touch the five people around him. But that was impossible given how packed the elevator had become, and he mentally told himself to calm down and not jerk his hand back after someone accidentally brushed against him.

Once they arrived at the lobby, Jongin was the last to step out of the elevator, preferring people to leave first in case he might bump into one of them and accidentally earn their hate. 

A long line snaked around the lobby, and as Jongin settled into the back of the line, he tapped his bracelet to project the time. Maybe he would miss his whole lunch break entirely at this rate. Resigned, Jongin gave up and waited as the line inched up every now and then. Stopped for a minute. And then slowly inched up again. 

This was not the place or time to cause a scene, to grow impatient. The government had created checkpoints around every city designed to control who could pass through and catch those who shouldn’t pass through. And because Jongin worked for the government, he supposed it made sense that a checkpoint would be located in the lobby.

When it was Jongin’s turn, he held out his bracelet out, trying to avoid eye contact with the security guard. All guards were androids, or government-created robots who looked much too similar to other humans. If it were not for the android’s red eyes, Jongin could have mistaken this one for an actual human. 

“What is your name?” the android said as they reached over to scan Jongin’s bracelet. 

“Kim Jongin,” Jongin said. 

The android paused, the armor on its chest projecting a countdown that flashed from three to two to one. Jongin knew that the android was waiting for his bracelet to change from green to red, an indication that he had lied. Because clearly the government would not stop at legalized murder, forcing every citizen to wear a lie detector around their wrist. 

When Jongin’s bracelet remained green, the android asked another question. 

“Are you authorized to be here?” the android asked. 

“Yes,” Jongin asked. His bracelet remained green because he told no lies. 

After he was cleared to leave, Jongin tugged his suit jacket over himself as he passed through the streets, feeling the blustery wind knock his bangs away from his forehead. He kept his eyes on the cracked pavement, not wanting to accidentally make eye contact with an irritable person who’d take offense and demand his name to write in a petition. His mother had taught him to spend as little time outside as possible to lessen the risks of angering others who wouldn’t hesitate to have him killed, so Jongin stepped into one of the first cafés he saw, greeted by an overly enthusiastic waitress and seated by another server who would not stop smiling.

No one wanted petitions filed against them, so most people compensated by being nicer. Overly nice to the point of insincerity.  But Jongin always thought that everyone should be kind regardless of reason. 

Jongin had a simple bowl of noodles for lunch, sipping his warm broth as he let his long legs dangle off the sides of the tall stool. Across the street, a long line of people waited at a checkpoint for entry to a fancier restaurant. Not all restaurants and businesses required its guests to pass through a checkpoint, but more upscale establishments certainly did. It was better to keep trouble away before chaos could rise. 

Jongin was mid-slurp when he saw someone’s bracelet flash red at the checkpoint, ignoring the soup that spilled from his spoon as he watched the android guards pull out their guns and point them at the person until they scrambled away. A red light at such a checkpoint meant that the person had lied, or that a petition had been filed against them. Some establishments didn’t like serving the condemned. 

Suddenly feeling his appetite disappear, Jongin slowly drank the rest of his broth, leaving the noodles to gather in clumps at the bottom of his bowl before picking up his bag and heading back to work. It was safer to lock himself in his office than risk staying a second more outside. 

But he didn’t make it even near his office because as soon as he stepped inside the lobby, one of his co-workers recognized him and jogged over to greet him.

“Jongin!” his co-worker said, clapping his shoulder, “How’s it going? How _are_ you?” 

Jongin could easily fake a smile, but he could not fake his answer. He hesitated before telling the truth. 

“Not good,” he said, the green light on his wrist confirming his answer, “I’ve got a lot of work to finish tonight.” 

He hated telling the truth sometimes, but he had no choice. The government took disciplinary action against individuals who lied more than a thousand times a year, and Jongin preferred to save his rare lies for more important occasions.

“That’s too bad,” his co-worker said, “but now that you’re here, why don’t you come with me? I was just heading out to the court, and it’d be nice to have some company.”

Jongin repressed the sigh waiting to spill out of his mouth. He didn’t even particularly like his co-worker and hated these trips to the courthouse even more. But his co-worker would not take no for an answer and used Jongin’s silence as an opportunity to lead him back out of the lobby. Jongin himself never said no because he was worried a no would trigger his co-worker and provoke a petition. Everyone knew, or at least whispered around the break room, that his co-worker had already filed three petitions.

Jongin would not be his fourth.   

“Great! You’re the best, Jongin,” his co-worker said, looping his arm through Jongin’s. As they walked out and waited by the streetlight, Jongin wondered if linking arms was meant to be a friendly gesture or an attempt to prevent him from escaping. 

At least he could enjoy a bit of the fresh air again. Jongin took a deep breath, struck with how much he missed his old job. He had been a field agent in a different department, and he’d never been afraid to be outside then.

Minutes later, they arrived at the court house with its checkered floors, and after passing through the entrance that a few rigid androids guarded, they passed under a glowing green sign.

 

TRUTH ABOVE ALL.

LIE AND DIE.

 

“Why do you even need me here with you?” Jongin whispered once they slid into a bench. 

“Because,” his co-worker said, “I enjoy having someone next to me for this. And aren’t you curious how your petitions turned out?”

“I’ve only been working in this department for a couple of months,” Jongin said in an attempt to conceal the true _no_ that he shouldn’t say. “Approved petitions take years to process.” 

“Right,” his co-worker said, shaking his head, “What happened to you before was just nasty business. How are you, by the way?” 

“Fine,” Jongin said, “Everything’s faded to a scar.” 

He resisted the urge to slide down his chair. Luckily enough, his co-worker didn’t pursue the topic, quieting down as the judge rose and spoke about a few things Jongin didn’t really care about. His co-worker leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear.

“One of the petitions you forwarded for further review made it all the way to the final ruling today,” his co-worker said, “You’ll get to see how it all ends.” 

Jongin immediately bent down to tug his shoelaces, wasting time by tying and retying them again and again as long as he dared before straightening up and folding his arms tightly across his chest. Knowing this, he couldn’t face the judge, certainly couldn’t face the petitioner and the accused, and absolutely couldn’t listen to any of the statements at all.  

After what seemed like thousands of years, the judge asked the closing questions. 

“How can you defend yourself?” the judge asked, pointing at the accused. 

The person threw themselves down onto the floor, kneeling right in front of the judge’s bench, and begged for mercy. Jongin saw his lawyer tap his bracelet to check the time. 

“Order,” the judge called out, striking the gavel on the bench. He waited until android guards mechanically pinned the accused back in the chair. 

“I just….” The man sniffled, “don’t want to die.” 

"Then you should have thought twice before perpetuating behavior that would cause others to file a petition against you," the judge shook his head. The man’s shoulders started to shake, and he gasped for breath. 

The judge glared at the accused one final time before turning to the petitioner who had been examining his nails disinterestedly.  

“How many years has it been since you first petitioned for the death of the accused?” the judge asked in a monotone voice. 

“Ten,” the petitioner said. Even from the back, Jongin could see how the petitioner wrung his hands together. How the accused covered their face in their hands. 

“Has the time waiting for a final verdict made you change your mind at all? Is this still necessary?” the judge asked. 

“No. I need him to die now,” the petitioner said, pointing at the accused who hung his head. 

“Very well,” the judge said, “If your reasons are valid and your intent to exterminate has not waned over the years, then please wait for our jury to discuss and decide the final verdict.” 

The jury exited the room, followed by ten androids who would ensure that no one would approach them in an attempt to influence the final decision. 

Jongin clasped his hands together, inhaling slowly. Juries were randomly selected on the day of the final trial to minimize bribery and other suspicious activities. And all jury members had to take a lie detector test to assure the rest of the court that their opinions had only been influenced by the facts of the case presented rather than any bribes or outside opinions. Thankfully Jongin had never been selected for petition cases. It was one thing to approve or reject petitions, but it was another to decide if someone should live or die. Right while they stood in front of them. 

Minutes later, the jury returned with an answer. One individual stood, raising their right hand in the air to display their bracelet. 

“We have reached a mutual, unanimous decision, Your Honor,” the person said, pausing to allow everyone to see the green light of their bracelet. 

“Thank you,” the judge said, “How do you find this extermination claim?” 

“The jury accepts this petition,” the person said. 

Jongin stopped breathing, his hands flying to his face as he watched the condemned man burst into tears, making one last attempt to flee and escape the court. Androids easily apprehended him and cuffed him to the chair. He struggled, screaming as the petitioner clapped and thanked the jury and the judge. 

An android wheeled a selection of weapons into the courtroom for the petitioner to choose from. 

“All right,” Jongin said, quickly standing up as the petitioner picked up a knife and examine the blade, “I need to get back to work. Thanks for taking me along, but I have to get through all the paperwork if I want to be home before midnight.” 

His co-worker was straining his neck to catch a better look at the extermination, so he only nodded and waved vaguely in Jongin’s direction. 

Jongin briskly walked out of the courtroom, pressing his hands over his ears as the screaming crescendoed. He changed his mind and broke into an abrupt sprint, slamming the door behind him after the screaming was silenced. 

He didn’t care who he met in the streets, bouncing on his toes as he waited for the streetlight to change from red to green. When it was time, Jongin ran across the street as if death himself was chasing him. He didn’t stop until he collapsed into his own chair in his office, resting his head on the desk as he panted and tried to erase the sounds of what he had heard moments before. 

Feeling like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart, Jongin took a shaky breath and pulled the stack of remaining petitions closer to him. He stared at the words, not registering anything. God. He hated this job, hated working in this department, and he’d do almost anything to transfer back to his old department again, to work with the same people again. Person. Again.

But things hadn’t worked out, and Jongin lightly pressed his abdomen, reminding himself that at least he was still alive. Letting out a sigh, he picked up a pen and skimmed through each petition just for work’s sake before stamping them all with the same label.

 

REJECTED

 

Forget the consequences. He’d go home on time after all. 

After checking the clock and realizing his shift had ended fifteen minutes ago, Jongin hastily grabbed his bag, threw on his suit jacket, and left for the night. 

Though the streets were slightly crowded, and though his mother always warned him against it, Jongin put on his headphones, blasted some classical music, and danced his way through the streets. He twirled past people, humming along to the weeping violins and sighing clarinets. His mother had taken him to dance classes when he was younger, and he’d danced through college as well. If things had been different, he would’ve been a professional dancer. But for now, he could only leap over the cracks of the pavement once in a while and restrict the rest of his dancing to the confines of his home. 

As he waited at the stoplight, Jongin turned off the music and called his mother. He’d be too tired to do so once he was home.

“Hello Jongin,” his mother answered once she picked up after the second ring. 

“Mom,” Jongin said, taking care to look both ways before stepping onto the street despite the green light that beckoned him to come, “How are you today?” 

“Good, good,” his mother answered, letting out a delighted laugh, “I’m so glad to hear from you, Jongin. Really, your sisters should be like you. No one except you calls me often.” 

“I’ll talk to them,” Jongin said, smiling for the first time that day, “But that means you’ll sneak me more sweets when I visit, right?”

“Of course, of course,” his mother assured him, “And how are you doing, too? How’s—” 

“Okay,” Jongin said, cutting his mother off before she’d ask about someone else he didn’t particularly want to talk about. 

“Just okay?” his mother asked, “What’s wrong? Did you two fight?” 

Jongin winced. He didn’t want to talk about this or how his day went, but between the two topics, there was only one choice. 

“My co-worker made me go to court with him today,” Jongin said, pausing before he continued onwards, “It was the final trial for an approved petition.” 

“Oh,” his mother said, her tone falling. Jongin looked behind him in case anyone had been following him. The sun had dipped into the ground a long time ago, and with the clouds covering the moon, Jongin shivered and hoped he’d be able to make it home without any hostile encounters. 

“Yeah,” Jongin said, “It was…approved. Usually some petitioners don’t want to actually exterminate with their own hands and let the androids take care of it. But today, this one did.”

“Oh, Jongin,” his mother sighed, “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” 

“I work in that department now, Mom,” Jongin said, keeping his gaze down as he passed by a group of men loudly arguing outside of a bar. It was not the strong stench of alcohol or the harsh tone of their voice that frightened Jongin, but rather the red glow of their wristbands. They were liars, all of them. 

“So something like that’s all my fault,” Jongin said, looking behind him again to find the bracelets looking like red fireflies in the distance. “I should’ve never allowed them to transfer me here.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” his mother urged, “I know you wouldn’t be careless about something like this. If you’ve given petitions the preliminary acceptance, then I’m sure they had good reason.” 

“I’m still so ashamed of myself,” Jongin said, kicking a rock once he turned the corner. He watched it skid across the pavement before continuing onwards. A familiar group of buildings greeted him on this street, and Jongin picked up the pace, glad he was almost home.

“Well, I’m still proud of you,” his mother said, causing Jongin to breathe a little easier. Talking to his mother always made him feel better. “I believe in your heart, and 

Jongin stopped in his tracks, debating whether or not to ask this next question before he conceded.

  
“Do you think dad would’ve been proud of me?” Jongin asked, clutching his phone as he waited for an answer. 

Silence.

That familiar silence. 

Then that sigh.

That same sigh. 

“Jongin,” his mother wearily said, “I don’t know because he’s dead. He’s been dead for a while now. But I’m still alive, and I can tell you I’m always proud of you.” 

“Okay,” Jongin said, lightly kicking at the trunk of a tree next to him. A leaf fluttered from the branch and fell onto pavement. A moment later, a car rushed past him, crushing the leaf into fragments. 

“I can hear the kettle whistling,” his mother said, “so I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Okay. Have a good night,” Jongin said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Jongin,” his mother said. 

Jongin let out a long exhale, shoving his phone in his pocket as he continued to trudge home. His mother hated talking about his father, and though she never told him why, Jongin could guess. Maybe she had loved him too much so any mention of him now, a present without his presence, always upset her. Yes. That must be it. 

Once he finally reached his apartment building, he nodded in greeting to the android that guarded the lobby. Really, if Jongin ever stumbled home drunk, he’d mistake that android for a real person. The android’s skin looked smooth, probably made out of synthetic plastic designed to mimic real skin.

“How was your day?” the android asked as Jongin scanned his bracelet. He didn’t mind this android as much as the others at his work and around the streets because at least this one was programmed with basic civility.

“Fine,” Jongin said. His bracelet flashed red, and he groaned, pressing his hands to his face as the android’s scanner beeped continuously. 

“Lie detected. Try again,” the android said, “You have two more chances to tell the truth, or you will be locked out of this apartment.” 

“No, it wasn’t good,” Jongin muttered, “It was a terrible, terrible day, and all I want to do is change my clothes and sleep.”

His bracelet changed back to green, causing the android’s alarm to cease.

“That is illogical,” the android said as they opened the gate and allowed Jongin to pass, “Dinner is an important meal.” 

Jongin only responded with a vague shrug of his shoulders and trudged inside. It was just his luck that the elevator was out of order, so he stood by the foot of the stairs, staring up at how many flights he’d have to climb. Three. Three before he could jump into bed and stop forcing his drooping eyelids open. As he slowly ascended the stairs, grabbing onto the metal railing engraved with twisting, winding patterns, he heard music echoing from above. Maybe some neighbors were having a party.

But when he stepped onto his hall, Jongin realized that couldn’t be. Because all of the neighbors on his floor were quiet, older, and didn’t really make much noise. Jongin stopped and stood on the black rug embroidered with crimson thread that lined the hallway, carefully listening to the music.

Heavy drums.

Booming bass.

Screaming guitars. 

Enthusiastic singing…

Someone liked rock music, but none of his neighbors were that someone. Curious, Jongin edged closer, putting his ear on each door as he passed by cautiously. None of them. He was just about to stand near another apartment before the door swung open, causing Jongin to jump back. 

“ _You_ ,” his neighbor said, adjusting her glasses as she glared at Jongin.

“…Me?” Jongin said, praying his neighbor wouldn’t be petty enough to file a petition against him for bothering her. She’d always glared at him and mumbled something under her breath every time Jongin was unfortunate enough to meet her in the halls and in the elevator rides down.

“Yes, you,” his neighbor said, pointing a finger at Jongin, “Don’t you think you should be more careful? If you’re going to risk someone taking your name and forwarding it straight to death, at least be home to listen to the disturbances you’re causing.”

With that, she slammed the door without saying more. Jongin slowly turned around as he processed what his neighbor said until he faced his own door across the hall. It was his apartment wasn’t it. His apartment that was blasting heavy rock music at this hour.

But that wasn’t his music. He didn’t listen to music on his stereo this loudly, and when he did, it certainly wasn’t rock. The neighbors would have called and complained to management if the music had been blasting for a while, so there was only one explanation.

Someone was in his apartment.

Jongin took a moment to hide his face in his hands. So he really thought there was nothing more this day could bring him. He really thought that he’d get to sleep without any other incident occurring. He really. Thought.

Once he had enough of the self-pity, Jongin lifted his hands from his face, squared his shoulders, and strode across the hall. He’d have no choice but to take care of this himself. If he called the android guard from downstairs, Jongin was sure management would file an incident report, and he wanted as little attention to himself as possible. 

Jongin grabbed the doorknob and attempted to turn it. Of course it was locked. If he kicked it down, then how much would he have to pay management to fix it? And how much damage was the person inside causing anyways? Jongin was too tired to be on guard, or overly on guard, so he took his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door as slowly as he could. 

He paused after he placed the keys back in his pocket, hearing someone start to sing. At least it sounded like only one person was inside. He hoped. But he wouldn’t assume because assuming anything in this society was a death sentence. 

Jongin opened the door just a crack, the music bleeding out of his apartment’s confinements and hitting him full force. It was regrettable he had to turn in his gun after he transferred departments, but at least he still kept his taser in the drawer by the front door. If he could reach it, then he’d be fine.

Jongin counted down from three before he swung the door open as quickly as he could. Without taking the time to look for the intruder, he rushed inside, rummaging through the drawers before he pulled out his taser. From here, the music pounded against his ears, and if Jongin closed his eyes, he might as well have been standing front row in a crowded pit at a rogue underground concert. 

Once he turned the taser on and held it out in front of him, Jongin crept deeper into his apartment, tapping a panel on the wall to turn on a single light above of them. And there, near the couches, was a man singing with his eyes closed. As the drums started banging louder and louder, the guitars wailing and accelerating in tempo, the man mimicked the motion with his hands, sliding onto his knees as his voice easily matched the volume of the music. As the final chorus crashed, the man picked up a pillow and kicked it through the air before jumping up and down. Jongin frowned. His mother gave them that throw pillow. 

The man was still absorbed in the music, continuing to sway his body and his head. Jongin edged closer, tightly clutching the taser, reassuring himself that he had the advantage now since the man hadn’t noticed him. 

“Hello?” he cautiously asked. 

He received no response from the man who had just jumped on his couches and started miming a guitar solo. 

Jongin cleared his throat and tried to speak a little louder. 

“Hello?” he called out. 

Nothing. 

No response. 

Just the same loud crash of drums, whining guitar, accompanied by the man’s singing. 

Jongin took several cautious steps forwards. 

“ _Hello_?” he screamed. 

The man finally turned around, noticing him for seemingly the first time. He blinked, the ends of his already curled lips rising higher and higher. Not even caring that Jongin had a weapon pointed at him, the man sauntered towards the stereo, turned it off, and looked back at Jongin. 

“You’re finally here,” the man said, “You know, it’s been a long day, and you would not fucking _believe_ how long it took me to get here. I mean…how do you live with this traffic? I was forced to walk the rest of the way, but your city really needs to start investing in—” 

But Jongin rightfully thought that he had an even longer day, an even more exhausting day, so he interrupted and cut him off.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just blow your head off,” Jongin said, taking another step forward. 

“Because…that’s a fucking taser?” the man said, pointing at the taser before letting out a laugh, his smile brightening. 

Jongin sighed. 

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Jongin asked again. 

“Business,” the man said, jumping over the couch and taking a seat. He bounced on the cushions for a few seconds before settling in and resting his arms on the couch’s frame. 

“That’s your name,” Jongin said, still standing, still pointing the taser at him. 

“No, that’s why I’m here,” the man said, sitting up straight to take off his leather jacket. He folded it neatly and placed it on his lap. 

“I don’t know you,” Jongin said, frowning as the man rested his feet on the coffee table, “and I don’t have any business with you. So get out before I hurt you.” 

The man laughed, clapping his hands together. 

“I mean it,” Jongin raised his voice, “Get out of my apartment. I’ll call the androids. I really will.”

The man pretended to wipe a nonexistent tear away from his eye as he calmed down. 

“Come _on_ , Jongin,” the man said, tilting his head as he looked at Jongin, “You really don’t recognize me?” 

Jongin stared and tried to remember from where and when he ever had the misfortune of meeting a person like this. Though the smile faded from the man’s face, the ends of his lips were still perpetually curled. One of his ridiculously straight eyebrows was raised in question, and Jongin’s eyes widened after noticing the man’s sharp cheekbones and numerous ear piercings. His mother had always told him never to curse, but he was dangerously close to doing so once he realized exactly who was sitting in his house. 

“Kim Jongdae?” Jongin said, resisting the urge to immediately flee. He felt silly holding a taser. It’d do nothing against someone like Jongdae.  

“Aw…You finally remember me,” Jongdae grinned, patting the seat next to him. Both of Jongdae’s hands were empty, but it’d only take him a second to pull out a gun, a second to transform from an unwanted intruder to a monster. “Come. Have a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”

“I have nothing to discuss with a killer,” Jongin said, mentally running through the list of options he didn’t have. In physical combat against Jongdae, he’d lose. In a gunfight, he’d lose. In every other fight, he’d lose. 

Jongdae wasn’t one of the world’s deadliest assassins for nothing. 

“Please, Jongin,” Jongdae laughed, continuing to pat the spot next to him, “The motherfuckers you worked with have killed several of my own friends. Do you call them killers, too?”

“They did their job,” Jongin said, wrinkling his nose at Jongdae’s choice of language. After resigning himself to the fact that this was absolutely a mistake, Jongin reluctantly sat down in front of Jongdae. 

“So did I,” Jongdae said, “What’s the difference?”

“You take money to kill, and my colleagues killed to save innocent people from others like you,” Jongin said. 

“I guess convincing you to take a job with me will take longer than I thought,” Jongdae said, propping his elbow up on the arm of the couch before resting his cheek in his hand. 

“I’m not interested,” Jongin said, gripping the taser in his hand so tightly that his veins had started to protrude from his hand. For a second, he took a moment to marvel at his own composure. He was sure that at any other given moment, he would’ve screamed at the sight of Jongdae. Perhaps the drag of today’s events had hardened his fear into reckless bravery, exhaustion into dangerous apathy.

“You didn’t even listen to what it was!” Jongdae protested, wrapping a knitted black scarf tighter around his neck. It was the only article of clothing that didn’t match the rest of his punk outfit.

“Whatever it is,” Jongin said, taking a moment to marvel at his own composure, “I’m not interested. So get out.” 

He was hoping to end this without a fight, but if he really had to throw hands, he was sure he’d only last three seconds. Ten if he was lucky. God, he should’ve fought harder to keep his previous job. The rigorous training required for it might be the difference between life and death tonight. 

“The job,” Jongdae said instead, “is helping me break into A.S.S. Wow. I can’t fucking believe you fuckers couldn’t have come up with a better name. Ass? Fucking… _Ass?_ Imagine saying that. Hi, I’m Jongin, and I work for Ass. Fuck!”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pull the trigger right now,” Jongin said, his lips sinking into a pout. What did Jongdae want with A.S.S.? That was probably the last place an assassin like him would ever want to be. 

“Because you wouldn’t get to hear what’s in it for you if you help me,” Jongdae said, his smile a little too smug for Jongin’s liking.

“What do you have that I could actually want?” Jongin asked, “I don’t care how much money you want to give me. I won’t do it.”

“Whoever said anything about money?” Jongdae said, waving Jongin off, “It’s something better. Something you want more than anything.”

“You can’t help me with that,” Jongin said, wondering for a split second if Jongdae truly knew what that was.

“Yes I can. I have the information you want,” Jongdae nodded.

“And what is that?” Jongin asked, leaning a little closer towards Jongdae.

“I know who killed your father. Help me, and I’ll tell you,” Jongdae said. The smile had disappeared from his face, and as he sank back into the seat, shadows danced across his countenance. He waited for Jongin’s answer. Yes or no.

Jongin froze for a second, his grip on the taser slackening.

“How do you know that?” Jongin slowly asked, “How do you possibly know that…” 

That this was what Jongin had wanted to know since forever? That this was the question that haunted him since he was a child whose father had left home one day and never come back? The question that drove Jongin to pursue the career he originally had? The question that he wanted to know more than anything?

“You keep tabs on my friends and me, I keep tabs on you,” Jongdae said, tapping a finger on the couch, “That’s all.”

“No, I…” Jongin said, lowering both his guard and the taser, “I’ve never told anyone about that. About him.”

“Well, I’m friends with other people who kill all sorts of sad motherfuckers. It makes sense that I’d know who killed your father. So are you with me or not?” Jongdae asked, carefully watching Jongin’s reaction. 

Jongin had been too young…only eight when his mother took him into her arms one day and told him his father was never coming back. It was only when he was older, when he had searched for answers himself that he’d discovered his father had been murdered, the killer never found, the case forever unsolved. If his father really had to die, couldn’t the killer have filed a petition first? Let Jongin prepare himself for the loss?

“I need a drink,” Jongin muttered to himself, striding over to his shelf of alcohol and popping open the closest bottle he could reach. He grabbed a glass and started pouring, shaking his head at what a terrible day today was. First the paperwork, then the courtroom. And now this. Kim Jongdae. A whole assassin that some of his former colleagues had devoted their entire careers to hunting. 

And now his father.   

Jongdae leapt up off the couch and followed him, but Jongin didn’t care. If Jongdae wanted him dead, then he’d already be dead. 

“No, no,” Jongdae said, snatching the glass away, pouring everything on the floor. 

“What’s your problem?” Jongin said, raising his voice. His carpet. His drink. His _drink_.

“Don’t drink on the job,” Jongdae said, “Don’t drink at all. You’ll regret it later.” 

“What do you care? And I’m not on the job,” Jongin said. Fine. He could just drink straight from the bottle now. It was one of those days anyways.

“You’re on the job since you’ll help me,” Jongdae said, stealing the bottle and tipping it upside down before Jongin could even lift it to his lips, “And someone like you should be more careful. Alcohol is too dangerous. If your mind is gone, then you’ve already lost the fight. If your heart is gone, then there’s no reason to fight.” 

“I won’t help you,” Jongin said. He debated reaching for another bottle before deciding against it, not wanting his whole liquor collection soaking in his carpet. 

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t do anything to find out what happened to your father?” Jongdae said, standing on his tip-toes to reach Jongin’s eyelevel. Jongin glared at him until he lowered his gaze and looked away. Jongdae had a point. 

“What do you even want with the Assassin’s Severance Services anyways?” Jongin asked, eyeing Jongdae as he made sure to pointedly avoid pronouncing A.S.S. like Jongdae had done.

“Come,” Jongdae said, looping his hand through Jongin’s arm and leading him back to the couch, “I’ll tell you.” 

Jongdae sat down first and attempted to tug Jongin down next to him. But Jongin had no desire to sit beside him, knowing too well that such close proximity would enable Jongdae to stab him in half a second. Instead, he took a seat across from him once again, folding his arms across his chest as he waited for Jongdae to speak. Jongin didn’t trust him. Not one bit. Maybe Jongdae was keeping him alive now, but there was always later.

“I’m retiring,” Jongdae announced. 

“Congratulations to all the people who won’t be murdered by you,” Jongin said. 

“Yes, yes,” Jongdae rolled his eyes, “They can live for another day. Or they’ll be picked off by other colleagues of mine if someone out there is rich enough and hateful enough.” 

“Why do you want to retire?” Jongin asked, shifting in his seat as he guessed all the different, most logical reasons. Being a hired hitman, an assassin…was a hard job. A dangerous job, given the amount of resources the government devoted to tracking those who threatened the petition system with every target they effortlessly and silently killed.

“My husband and I want to raise a family,” Jongdae clasped his hands together and beamed.

Jongin stared at him for a second, processing what he had heard, and then started. _Laughing_. The laughter would probably get him killed, but he didn’t care right now because this was too much. Him? Kim Jongdae? And his husband? Two assassins? Raising a _family_?

“What’s so funny about that?” Jongdae asked. He raised a single eyebrow, which was Jongin’s cue to shut up. 

“I just…” Jongin said after he regained enough control of himself, “You don’t seem like the type of person to want a family.” 

“I already have a family,” Jongdae firmly said, “We’d just like to add a few members because we have a lot of love to give.”

“But. You…kill,” Jongin said, feeling like he was back in math class struggling to see the connection between triangles and numbers. 

“So? Everyone else kills, too, but at least we’re smart enough to charge people for killing,” Jongdae said, slightly raising his voice. 

“Does your husband feel the same?” Jongin asked, switching the topic before Jongdae had a chance to pull a gun on him, “About wanting kids?” 

“Of course,” Jongdae nodded. Jongin breathed easier when he saw Jongdae’s shoulders relax. “Of course we’ve talked about this. We’ve planned our retirement years ago. It takes time to prepare, you know. And I’d never want to do something he doesn’t want.” 

“He…” Jongin muttered, “Oh Sehun.” 

“Don’t say his name like that,” Jongdae said, glaring for Jongin for the first time this night. Jongin’s heart stammered in his chest as he watched Jongdae’s fingers dig into the seat of the couch. 

“Sorry,” Jongin said. His bracelet shifted from green to red. 

The abrupt change in color distracted Jongdae enough for him to start laughing. 

“Oh, we’re going to have problems if you can’t lie,” Jongdae shook his head. 

“Then I don’t know why you decided to ask me,” Jongin said, “No one can lie with these bracelets on. Not even you.” 

“I’ve told three lies since we’ve met,” Jongdae blinked, “It’s nothing.” 

Jongin’s jaw dropped. 

“But that’s impossible,” Jongin said, pointing at Jongdae’s green bracelet, “Your bracelet didn’t even change color once.” 

“Are you kidding?” Jongdae asked, clapping his hands together as he laughed again, “It’s so easy to lie.”

“So you’re practically a free man. Nothing can stop you,” Jongin said, realizing why no one had managed to even touch Jongdae, “That’s why you and all the other assassins can escape from anything.” 

“Nah,” Jongdae said with a shake of his head, “Only a few others, Sehun, and I are gifted at lying. It’s not something that can be taught. You either have it or you don’t, and clearly…you don’t.” 

Jongin took a shaky breath and shook his head. If Jongdae could lie like this, then Jongin couldn’t trust him anymore. Not that he ever trusted him anyways. 

“I can’t work with a liar,” Jongin said. 

“So _suddenly_ you don’t want to take the job not because I’m an assassin but because I’m a…liar,” Jongdae said, raising his eyebrows, “Are you listening to yourself speak?” 

“What’s the job,” Jongin scowled after hesitating.

“I told you. I need to break into A.S.S.,” Jongdae said, leaning back into the couch, satisfied with Jongin’s compliance, “If we want to retire, then I need to make sure no one ever comes after Sehun and me ever again. Our files and everything they have on us, which I’m sure is not much, need to be destroyed.”

“How does this concern me?” Jongin asked, “I’m sure you’re more than enough capable of doing this by yourself." 

“I want to make it easy for myself,” Jongdae shrugged, “If we use your credentials, we’ll be in and out in minutes.” 

Jongin shifted, picking and pulling at the fabric on the couch, realizing what Jongdae’s job meant for him. At least he’d managed to tell his mother he loved her one last time. 

“Then you’ll have a problem,” Jongin said. 

“What’s that?” Jongdae asked, eyes beginning to narrow. 

“Don’t kill me,” Jongin said, casting a panicked look at Jongdae’s hands to make sure they were still empty. Guns were Jongdae’s preferred weapon, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of killing him with literally anything in his immediate vicinity. The porcelain vase on the coffee table. The teddy bear his niece had forgotten the last time she visited. And his own two hands. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” Jongdae said, taking his feet off the coffee table. 

“You could be lying,” Jongin hastily said, wondering how many seconds he had to escape if he managed to tase Jongdae. 

“I’m not lying,” Jongdae said, leaning forwards and cocking his head. 

“I don’t believe you,” Jongin said, feeling his pulse climb into his throat. 

“I’ll give you my word,” Jongdae said, “How about that?” 

“That’s not worth anything at all,” Jongin said. In this moment, he realized just how closely he was brushing up against death. Not even his A.S.S training would prepare him for fighting Jongdae. He thought he had been trained well and considered himself a good fighter, but he found out three months ago that he was absolutely not. 

“Just…tell me,” Jongdae sighed, holding the ends of his scarf, “I came to you for help. Not to take your life.”

Jongin quickly shook his head, earning another long sigh from Jongdae. 

“I really do promise,” Jongdae said, raising his hand in the air, “And if you don’t help me, then I guess you’ll never know who killed your f—” 

“I don’t work at the Assassin’s Severance Services anymore,” Jongin blurted out, too late to stay silent, too late to take back anything he said now, “So I can’t give you my credentials.” 

“Hm. I see,” Jongdae slowly said, pressing his lips together for a moment. It was a moment Jongin spent begging any god who’d listen to grant Jongdae the virtues of patience and mercy. 

“Where do you work now?” Jongdae asked, gaze flicking back upwards to meet Jongin’s panicked stare. 

“I was transferred to the Department Of Undeniably Civil, Humane Exterminations,” Jongin recited, “It’s one floor below the A.S.S—”

“Oh my fucking _God_ ,” Jongdae laughed, pointing at Jongin with a finger Jongin didn’t appreciate, “You…you traded Ass for _Douche_?” 

“Trust me. I’d rather be hunting people like you anytime,” Jongin said, letting out a long exhale as he watched Jongdae’s shoulders shake and his eyebrows knit upwards. At least it seemed Jongdae would be too busy laughing to kill him. 

Jongdae kept trying to speak but failed, a new bubble of laughter sounding every few seconds or so. 

“Now you really can’t talk shit about my job,” Jongdae said once he had calmed down enough, “God…Now you’re one of the douches at Douche who decide whether or not petitions are approved or not. We’re the same, you and I. We’re the same now.” 

“We aren’t the same,” Jongin glared, “I am not like you, and I’ll never be like you. I wouldn’t willingly kill someone.” 

“Yes you do,” Jongdae said, “I bet just today you’ve approved of let’s say…three petitions to kill someone?” 

“I’m happy to have this job. It’s important,” Jongin said. His bracelet immediately buzzed and changed from green to red. Jongdae only gave Jongin a look that made him turn away. 

“That speaks for itself,” Jongdae said, “You working at Ass…That I can respect. But Douche? Fuck that shit, Jongin. You’re better than that.”

“How would you know? We’ve never met before this,” Jongin said, grabbing his wrist to conceal the red.

Jongdae only flashed him a grin and shrugged.

“Like I said. You keep tabs on my friends. I keep tabs on yours,” Jongdae said.

“Get to it then,” Jongin said, slowly lifting his hand away once the bracelet reset back to green, “How are we going to do this?” 

“Last chance to back out,” Jongdae said stretching his hand out towards Jongin. 

“Tell me,” Jongin said, taking Jongdae’s hand, “What’s the plan?” 

Jongdae’s lips curled up as they shook hands, and if Jongin could trace back every single disaster that would happen from now, this was probably the moment that sealed his fate, cursed his life. 

“Easy,” Jongdae said, leaning back after Jongin broke their grasp, “We sneak into A.S.S. You distract some people while I do my thing and plant a virus in their system that would destroy anything they have on Sehun and me. Then we get out. And I tell you what you want to know.” 

“Easy?” Jongin asked. 

“Yeah,” Jongdae nodded, “We’ll have to do some recon first. I want to see the inside of your office building so I can navigate properly. How many androids are there…where all the different cameras are placed. I need to know everything in case anything goes wrong?” 

“You’re going to sneak around my building for a whole day? Jongin asked, thinking of the billion different ways that could cause a national crisis. 

“No, you are,” Jongdae said, reaching from behind the couch to pull out a bag. He rummaged around before removing a laptop and a glasses case. After placing the laptop on the seat beside him, Jongdae opened the case, took out the glasses, and leaned over to put them on Jongin’s face. 

“I don’t understand,” Jongin said. He looked around the room, noticing no change in his vision. 

“Your division is so behind on technology,” Jongdae clucked his tongue as he pulled the laptop to his lap and opened it. “If you had what we have, then you might actually stand a chance against us.” 

“We’re doing fine. We took Seulgi in three months ago, remember?” Jongin said. Took was a nice way of saying killed, but Jongin didn’t want to provoke Jongdae any further. 

But Jongdae said nothing in response, keeping his gaze on the computer screen while his fingers tapped out a frenetic rhythm on the keyboard. 

“Tap the side of your glasses,” Jongdae ordered. Jongin obeyed, and out of nowhere, a large blinking cursor was projected on the wall in front of Jongin. 

“When you wear those glasses, I can see what you see, and I can communicate with you by typing into this program,” Jongdae said.

Jongin blinked again, watching the cursor fade. 

“Type something so I won’t be startled tomorrow when words start popping up out of nowhere,” Jongin said. 

“Startled… _startled_?” Jongdae said, finally looking up from his laptop, “You’re supposed to be a big, scary A.S.S. agent. And you’re scared of some blinking words?”

Technically, Jongin was only fearless when he was working with A.S.S. because his partner was the brave one, the strong one, the one who had managed to protect Jongin from everything. 

Until three months ago. 

“Well, I don’t know,” Jongin shrugged, “Do they make noises when they appear in my view? Will I see three little dots to show me if you’re in the middle of typing?” 

Jongdae let out a dramatic sigh and started typing. Out of nowhere, a few words appeared in Jongin’s view.

 

WHAT’S UP, MOTHERFUCKER 

NO, THEY DON’T MAKE ANY NOISES.

 

Jongin gasped, more at the language rather than the abruptness of the text. 

“Did that scare you?” Jongdae asked. 

“No,” Jongin said. As he looked at Jongdae, the words started to fade from view, disappearing into nothing. 

“We’re going to have a problem if you really want me to wear these tomorrow though,” Jongin said, taking the glasses off and carefully folding them. 

“What is it?” Jongdae asked, shutting off his laptop. 

“What am I going to do when people at work ask me why I’m wearing glasses? I’ve never worn glasses, and I don’t need them. And I can’t exactly tell them that an assassin who broke into my apartment yesterday night gave them to me,” Jongins aid. 

“True…” Jongdae mused. He placed the laptop on the coffee table and sat down beside Jongin. “Let’s practice.” 

Jongin tensed but did not grab his taser this time, did not withdraw from Jongdae this time.

“Why are you wearing glasses?” Jongdae asked. 

“Because…the eye doctor said my vision has problems,” Jongin said. His bracelet turned red. 

“Fuck,” Jongdae said, “You can’t hesitate when you lie, Jongin. You’ll give yourself way. Say it like you mean it.” 

“I usually wear contacts, but I’ve misplaced them on this very fine morning,” Jongin said. His wrist buzzed, and Jongin didn’t need to look to confirm what that meant. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jongdae slowly said, drawing out the syllables as long as he could. 

“Can you not curse?” Jongin made a face, “It’s off-putting.” 

“No fucking thanks,” Jongdae said, running his fingers through his hair as a slow, smug grin stretched across his face. 

Jongin stared at the ceiling and wondered why he had been cursed with every single event from today. 

“I guess I can’t help you if I can’t lie,” Jongin said.

“No, you’re good,” Jongdae said, “If people ask you about your glasses tomorrow, then just don’t answer. You can’t lie if you don’t say anything. Shrug. Give an excuse. Or talk about something else…something that you can’t lie about.”      

This sounded more doable. After all, he usually preferred keeping his conversations with other co-workers as minimal as possible. 

“Fine,” Jongin conceded, “I can do that.”

 

 

ϟ ϟ ϟ

 

 

Jongin was absolutely wrong. 

Because the next day at work, he regretted everything as soon as he stepped into the lobby, trying his hardest not to touch the glasses, and realized that he could absolutely not do this. 

The android stared at him after it was Jongin’s turn in line. 

“You have new glasses,” the android said, “I do not recall you wearing glasses before today.” 

Jongin struggled to think of something, anything to say, but Jongdae was quick to guide him with a few red words that flashed on top of the android’s head.

 

DON’T SPEAK. NOD.

 

Jongin nodded, hoping his expression was as neutral and composed as he needed it to be.

That seemed to satisfy the android, and sure enough, Jongin passed through the checkpoint without any further questions. As Jongin headed for the elevator, he stared at every entrance, every exit for Jongdae. A few androids marched passed him, heading towards the front to respond to a breach in security. Jongin averted his gaze, hoping he’d never get caught. Leaking the floorplans and security details of this building to an assassin would certainly land him in prison. 

After riding the elevator up to his floor, Jongin continued to keep his head down and pretended not to hear the co-workers greeting him. He felt their stares as he walked past them, and if Jongin had to hear one more person questioning why he was wearing glasses, he’d truly let the truth spill out of his mouth. Because the truth was better than the punishment and a lie would give him. 

It was impossible to ignore everyone for long, especially when they approached him, but thankfully Jongdae guided Jongin through everything. 

"Jongin! What's up! Are those glasses new?"

 

NOD. KEEP WALKING.

 

"Jongin, since when did you wear glasses."

 

SPEAK. PULL IT OFF AS A JOKE.

 

"Never! Haha!" Jongin said, letting out a shaky laugh and pointing finger guns at his co-worker. His co-worker laughed, shook her head, and turned back to her work. 

"Are those even your glasses? They look too stylish to be worn by Mr. I Wear The Same Work Outfit Every Day," another co-worker said.

 

TRUTH WITH SARCASM.

 

Jongin realized this was probably how Jongdae evaded the lie detectors. If anything, he was showing Jongin a fine masterclass on how to lie, or at least how to conceal the real truth. 

"Oh, yeah," Jongin tried to shakily say, "Of course these aren't mine." 

"Then who do they belong to?" his co-worker asked.

 

SHRUG.

 

Jongin shrugged, saving himself from the red glare of his bracelet. He excused himself and wove his way through his co-worker’s desks before making it to his own private office. After dropping his bag by his desk, he collapsed into his chair and let out a long _oh my god…_  

He stared at the mountain of petitions and other paperwork an intern had placed on his desk for the day and slid further down his chair. He hadn’t slept much yesterday, as Jongdae had decided he would sleep over at Jongin’s, a decision Jongin had no input in. So Jongin, though he had locked his bedroom door, had slept with his eyes awake, wondering if Jongdae would slit his throat in his sleep.

 

YOU TRADED ASS FOR PAPERWORK? SAD.

 

Jongin tried to blink the red letters out of his sight, letting out a huff when they only faded seconds later. A second later, he pulled a petition in front of him and tried to concentrate.

 

THIS IS BORING.

 

Jongin picked up a slip of scratch paper beside him and quickly scratched out a message before holding it up close to his eyes so Jongdae could see everything clearly. 

_Can you please shut up and let me work? If I don’t work because you’re distracting me, it’ll only look more suspicious._

Jongdae held the paper up for three seconds before red letters concealed his message.

 

FINE.

 

Jongin imagined Jongdae sticking his tongue at him miles away in his apartment. Or what was probably left of his apartment now. 

Jongin scratched out his message and fed it to the tiny shredder beside his desk before finally reading the cover page of today's first petition.

 

REASONS FOR EXTERMINATION:

\- Told me to choke three  (x3 )times

\- Threatened me with a knife five times (x5) (plastic)

\- Dumped leggos on my whole entire front lawn and I stepped on them

 

People picked the pettiest reasons to exterminate others, and Jongin didn’t know why it was this hard for some people to live next to each other. Then again, if Jongdae lived across the hall, Jongin was sure he’d be staring at mountains of complaints and petitions filed against him. 

He didn’t need to read the rest of the file to make his decision, but he flipped through the documents before stamping it properly.

 

REJECTED

 

Jongin pulled the next petition closer to him and skimmed the cover.

 

REASONS FOR TERMINATION:

\- said my dog looked ugly

\- said my dog looked ugly???

\- SAID MY DOG LOOKED UGLY

 

Jongin sympathized with the owner, but this wasn’t something to exterminate someone over. Logically.

 

REJECTED.

 

Jongin lifted the next petition towards him, and after five more petitions processed and rejected, he had to admit that Jongdae was right. This job was boring, and he’d much rather be in the field tracking assassins with…

Never mind.

Jongin shook his head, resisting the urge to let out another long sigh. Jongdae would no doubt ask why, and Jongin didn’t want to talk about it. About him. He hadn’t even told his mother that they had broken up. 

Jongin glared at the stacks of paper he hadn’t even dented and snatched the next petition. But his frustration faded once he read the summary of the next petition.

 

REASONS FOR EXTERMINATION:

\- hurt me for years

\- I still have scars

\- Please

\- Help

 

Jongin took his time with his petition, carefully reading through the attached medical records, the statements from the witnesses, and the police reports. This case, too, had several other precedent cases, but Jongin still hesitated before stamping the top of the petition with green ink.

 

ACCEPTED

 

The text on the paper became distorted as bigger red words appeared. Jongin looked up at the wall in front of him to decipher what Jongdae had written.

 

SEE? WE’RE THE SAME, YOU AND I

 

“Stop it,” Jongin muttered, looking away. 

“What was that? Jongin, did you say something?” a voice called out, causing Jongin to snap his head up to find his co-worker standing inside his office.

 

AT LEAST I LOOK INTO THE EYES OF THOSE I’VE KILLED. 

YOU KILL BEHIND A DESK.

 

Jongin ducked under his desk for a split second to whisper another harsh _stop it_ before greeting his co-worker with a strained smile. 

“Hello,” Jongin said, “What are you doing here?” 

“Want to visit the court with me again?” his co-worker asked.

 

WHO’S THIS UGLYASS MOTHERFUCKER?

 

Jongin rubbed his face with his hands. He was going to get caught, he was going to get caught, he was going to get _caught_ … 

“Sorry, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on,” Jongin said, quickly standing up and brushing his co-worker, “so I can’t go. But I’ll see you around the office.” 

Without listening to his co-worker’s protests, Jongin all but ran down the hall until he locked himself in the bathroom and turned on the sink. He aggressively splashed water onto his face before staring at his reflection, water dripping down from his skin and soaking his shirt. 

What was he doing? 

All this for a secret Jongdae might not even know? 

 

DO SOME RECON TO AVOID HIM. VISIT ASS. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT I’M LOOKING FOR.

 

“I can’t do this,” Jongin said, gripping the edges of the sink, “Someone’s going to ask, and if I don’t answer, I’ll freeze. And that pause is going to give me away. You. Away.”

 

I’M HERE. YOU’LL BE FINE.

 

“That’s supposed to make me feel better? You’re a killer. You kill people for a living,” Jongin said.

 

AND OTHERS IN THIS SOCIETY HAVEN’T?

 

Jongin felt the responses, the _that’s different_ , the _that’s not the same_ , die in his throat, and shakily spoke. 

“How much of A.S.S. do you need to see?” Jongin said, not willing to endanger the people that still worked there.

 

EVERYTHING.

 

"I'm only showing you the computer room. That's all," Jongin firmly argued.

 

FINE.

 

Satisfied, Jongin stared at his reflection one last time, wondered what he was doing one last time, and marched out, holding his head high and trying not to seem overly suspicious. He still avoided eye contact with everyone and took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. 

Once he arrived at A.S.S.’s office, the receptionist greeted him with a smile. 

“Jongin! Have you transferred back?” she asked, “What are you doing here?” 

Jongin’s mouth slightly dropped open, and he frantically tried to formulate an answer that wouldn’t get him detained. 

Luckily, the receptionist misread Jongdae’s mild panic and assumed something else. 

“Oh, I see,” she winked at him, “He’s not here right now, but would you like me to leave a message for him? Tell him you stopped by to see him?” 

At least the mention of _him_ gave Jongin the chance to speak the truth. 

“I’m not here to see him,” he said, marching inside before the receptionist could say anything else. Once he was inside, he tilted his gaze upwards to avoid showing Jongdae the exact layout of A.S.S.’s office and hugged the walls as he crept towards the computer room. Everyone was either on lunch break or in the daily meeting so they wouldn’t see Jongin behaving like this.

 

WHO WAS SHE TALKING ABOUT?

 

“None of your business,” Jongin said, biting his tongue before he could say _no one at all_. Because that was a lie.

Fumbling on the wall, Jongin felt for the doorknob and twisted it open before entering the server room. After giving Jongdae a split-second look at the rows of servers and the computer screens in the back did Jongin cover the lens of his glasses with his hands. 

“This is so wrong,” Jongin said, “Who says you won’t use this opportunity to take down A.S.S. after all of this information I’m giving you?”

 

I WON’T.

 

“I don’t trust you,” Jongin said, hating that he could almost hear Jongdae whine. 

Red letters cut through the darkness, and Jongin squeezed his eyes shut after he read them.

 

YOUR FATHER OR YOUR CO-WORKERS.

 

Jongin slowly removed his hands away, blinking as he showed Jongdae the full view of the room.

 

THANKS. NOW WALK PAST EVERY ROW SLOWLY. SHOW ME EVERYTHING.

 

Jongin pressed his lips together and scanned every row, every server as he walked around the room, feeling guiltier and guiltier with every step he took. He shouldn’t have relied on or bothered to listen to an assassin after spending so many years hunting them…But was it too late to back out? Maybe he should just snap the glasses. Or figure out how to call for help and tell people that there was an assassin in his house without alerting that same assassin of his betrayal. 

But then they’d ask. How did he get there, Jongin? What did he want with you, Jongin? And Jongin would never be able to lie his way out of that mess, so it was here in the server room that he realized it was too late to stop now. He had to see this job until the end. Help Jongdae until the end. And when everything was done and over with, they’d part, hopefully never see each other ever again, and Jongin would carry the secrets of what really happened to his grave. 

Jongin took advantage of Jongdae’s silence and started walking towards the exit. The less time he spent here, the better. The less Jongdae saw here, the better. But it was just his luck when the door swung open and one of his former co-workers entered.   

“Oh! Jongin? You’re here? If you’re looking for—” she began to say, smiling easily once she saw Jongin.

“I’m not looking for him,” Jongin replied, feeling his feet anchored to the floor. 

“Oh…Then why are you here? It is good to see you. I’m glad to see you’re doing well. Alive and everything,” she smiled, reaching out to pat Jongin’s shoulder.

 

BEND THE TRUTH.

 

Jongin seized Jongdae’s advice and tried his best.

“I’m checking out your security,” Jongin said, looking down to check if his bracelet was still green. 

“I see…Did they transfer you to the security branch?” she asked. 

Jongin vaguely shrugged and gave her a different answer.

“I want to transfer back here,” Jongin said. 

“Okay. Well…come with me. I’ll walk you through it,” she said, motioning for Jongin to follow her. She took her time, explaining which sections were backup drives, which were servers, which were backup generators. 

“How are you protected against the event of a cyber-attack?” Jongin asked, wondering if his co-workers were prepared for whatever Jongdae was planning. 

“Management wants our evaluations this soon?” his co-worker sighed.

“We just want to know what would happen if someone were to shut down all your power and corrupt the data. Are you protected against that?” Jongin asked. 

“Yeah, it would take a very well programmed virus to take down our servers. And even then, you’d have to install it manually,” his co-worker shrugged, “I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s nearly impossible.” 

A few words flashed in Jongin’s sight, and he blinked rapidly, almost startled by their sudden appearance.

 

DON'T WORRY. MINE'S STRONG ENOUGH TO KILL THE SERVERS.

 

Jongdae complained about a lot of things, but Jongin would make sure he’d never complain about the lack of thoroughness involved in this job. 

“If that happened,” Jongin continued to ask, “then all the information A.S.S. stores would be gone, right? I hope you really are that well defended.” 

“It’s not like anyone would be able to actually walk in here and succeed,” his co-worker waved Jongin’s concern off, “This is A.S.S. after all. All the best agents in the country work here. And besides. We keep backup flash drives of everything across the hall.” 

Across the hall… 

“The Director?” Jongin asked, “He keeps them?” 

“Yeah in his safe…you know that big one only he knows the password to,” she said, “So don’t worry and run back to your new department and tell them we’re all good here.” 

The Director oversaw A.S.S., and every time he led a meeting at work or visited their office, Jongin had always avoided looking at him, too intimidated by his sharp glare and the two android guards that followed him wherever he went. So if the flash drives were in his office, the difficulty of Jongdae’s mission had sharply multiplied a thousand times.  

“I’ll let _you know who_ know you were here,” his co-worker teased, “so give me good marks on my evaluations, please.”

“Don’t do that,” Jongin curtly said. 

He saw his co-worker’s eyebrows furrowing, a question forming on her lips, but he brushed past her before he had to make any excuses. Before he had the chance to lie. Without looking behind him, Jongin escaped into the stairwell, placing his hands over his mouth so the security cameras wouldn’t film him talking to himself. 

“What are we going to do about the flash drives?” Jongin asked, “I didn’t know the Director kept copies of everything.”

 

WE’LL DESTROY THEM.

 

“Great. Of course. But have you ever thought about how you’re going to break into the safe?” Jongin said, opening the door to his floor just a crack as he peeked outside.

 

SHOW ME THE SAFE.

 

“Now you want me to risk my life by walking back upstairs and into the Director’s office?" Jongin said, letting the door close, “Maybe you could guide me through lying to everyone else, but it’s impossible to lie to him.”

 

YOU SCARED?

 

“ _No_ ,” Jongin forcefully said, “It’s just…He doesn’t even need to look at your bracelet to determine if you’re lying or not. There’s nothing you can do, no lie you can tell him. I can’t…I’d be scared for my life if I ever tried to lie for him.”

 

YOUR FATHER OR YOUR LIFE

 

Jongin sighed and covered his eyes with his hands for a moment. 

“You’re being dramatic. I’ll do it…He’s probably not even in his office at the moment,” Jongin said, trudging up the stairs. Once he reached the proper floor again, he turned on his heel, ignoring the receptionist once she asked him why he was back so soon. 

As Jongin walked down the hall towards the Director’s office, his hands became more and more sweaty, and he shoved them into his pockets to stop them from shaking. 

“I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this…” Jongin muttered to himself.

 

YES YOU CAN.

 

“I _can’t_ ,” Jongin hoarsely said, his voice cracking.

 

YOU HAVE NO CHOICE. YOU’RE ALREADY HERE.

 

“Great,” Jongin harshly said, “Thank you so much.” 

With that, he squared his shoulders, took a deep, shuddering breath, and opened the door to the Director’s office without any further hesitation. The Director’s secretary looked up from her screen and greeted him. 

“Hello. May I help you?” she asked. 

“I’m here for something important the Director has,” Jongin said. 

“May I ask for your name?” the Director’s secretary said, letting out a yawn. 

“Jongin. Kim Jongin,” he said, “We’ve worked together a few times.” 

“One moment please,” the secretary said, picking up a phone to call the Director. She lowered her voice to prevent Jongin from listening to her speak. This was when she’d ask someone to drag him to an interrogation, right? Where he’d be detained and sent straight to extermination? 

“The Director is out at the moment, but he will return in minutes,” she said, “He said he’s happy to hear you visited, and he’s requested for you to wait in his office.” 

"Thank you," Jongin said. The secretary stood, leading Jongin down the hall. As they passed by a few locked doors, Jongin wondered what the Director could be hiding. Once she led Jongin inside the Director’s office, she shut the door and left. 

Jongin stood in the middle of the office, staring at the plainly decorated room. The Director clearly preferred function over decoration, as there was nothing but a mahogany desk in the front of the room, two chairs, and bookshelves in the back.

"There's no safe in here," Jongin said in realization. Of course. The Director wouldn't be foolish enough to keep an important safe in his office.

 

FIND IT.

 

"I can't just look through his things," Jongin hissed, putting his hands over his mouth in case there were any hidden cameras in the Director’s office, "And he'll be back here in any second."

 

DO IT.

 

"No," Jongin harshly whispered.

 

DO IT?

 

" _No,_ " Jongin said.

 

_DO IT._

 

"NO," Jongin loudly whispered. And because things always, absolutely seemed to go his way, the door swung open a second later. 

"Hello, Jongin,” the Director said as he walked inside, “Good to see you. Did you say something?" he asked. 

"It's good to see you, too," Jongin said, hastily turning around and offering the Director his hand to shake. Luckily, the Director didn't press the matter further. 

"Please have a seat," the Director said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. He himself sat down and folded his hands on top of his desk. “So why are you here? You’re not here only to visit. Right?” 

“I…” Jongin began to say.

 

LIE IF YOU HAVE TO.

 

But Jongin couldn't lie. That was impossible.  

"I'm here to discuss something important," Jongin said. 

"What is it?" The Director asked. He always asked questions and kept his responses as specific as possible so everyone was forced to give him a direct answer. At least Jongin really had been meaning to speak to the Director anyways. 

"I want to transfer back to A.S.S," Jongin said. If he stopped to listen carefully, he was sure he could hear the sound of Jongdae laughing across the city.

"But you recently transferred to D.O.U.C.H.E," the Director said, "You don't like your job?" 

“I prefer my old job,” Jongin said.

“Why?” the Director asked, “Because of—” 

“It’s not because of him,” Jongin almost snapped. It was ridiculous, how everyone in this department automatically assumed this was why he had visited. “This is about how I know I’m wasting my time sitting behind my desk. I can do more than a desk job, and I’d rather return here and continue chasing assassins.”

“You’re right,” the Director said after a pause, “You were a fine agent, and we can always use more people like you. Assassins are better off dead.” 

“I agree,” Jongin bluntly said without thinking.

 

HARSH.

 

The red words clashed with the flickering green of his bracelet, but Jongin didn’t care. That’s why he’d worked in A.S.S. from the beginning. He wouldn’t have even applied and survived the rigorous training if he didn’t agree with their purpose. 

“Okay,” the Director nodded, “We could transfer you back, but you’re still recovering. Talk to me again when you’re better.” 

“I’m fully fine,” Jongin said, his louder voice earning a raised eyebrow from the Director. “I can walk, I can run, I can breathe…Isn’t that all I need?”

 

CAN YOU LOVE?

 

“Your reflexes,” the Director said. He picked up a pen from his desk, threw it at Jongin, and watched as Jongin struggled to catch it. After the pen slipped through his fingers, Jongin disappointedly bent over to pick it up.

“Come back when you’ve improved,” the Director nodded. 

Jongin only winced and nodded, sending his chair screeching backwards as he leapt upwards and left before he could embarrass himself further. 

Jongdae didn’t bother him for the rest of his work shift. Maybe he had grown tired of watching Jongin read through files and petitions and had taken a nap. Or he was in the middle of rigging Jongin’s apartment with explosives in case Jongin refused to work with him again. What did assassins even do with their spare time? 

After a long day, Jongin headed home, dreading to see what his apartment looked like now. If Jongdae was holding another solo concert, then he was certain his couches would be flipped over and his cushions ripped by now. 

Once he reached his apartment building and started climbing the stairs, every step felt heavier as he heard familiar rock music floating from the upper levels once more. Shaking his head, he fished his keys out of his bag. He was about to unlock his door when his neighbor across the hall stuck her head out and yelled at him.

“Do you have a friend over or something?” she asked, “What’s with the racket? Don’t you know someone filed a petition over another person in this building for excessive noise?” 

“Sorry,” Jongin winced, “I’ll turn it down.” 

He turned his back on her before she could complain again and slammed the door shut, pressing his back on the wall as he considered her words. What if she called the police? Or worse…what if she filed a petition against him? 

But the mere sight of Jongdae in his living room caused Jongin’s legs to buckle, and he groaned as he slid down to the floor. The rock music continued blaring, and while Jongdae wasn’t dancing around tonight, he still reclined on Jongin’s couch, bopping his head to the beat of the drums. His hands conducted the music, and he closed his eyes as he sang along.

"Jongdae," Jongin said, summoning all of his remaining strength to loudly speak, "Can you please turn that down?"

"Jongin," Jongdae grinned, eyes fluttering open as he heard Jongin’s voice. He leapt off the couch and rushed towards him. Jongin really didn't want Jongdae to come closer, but he was too weak from the psychological weight of today’s events to protest Jongdae pulling him to his feet and leading him to the couch.   

"Can you please turn off the music? My neighbor complained," Jongin said, struggling to be heard over the music. 

"No," Jongdae said before pointing at the upwards, "Isn't this such a good song? I love it.”

"What if they call the police?" Jongin asked, losing the will to continue speaking so loudly, "I'll have to explain I'm harboring an assassin because I can't...lie."

Jongdae studied Jongin’s expression before finally shutting off the music.

"Don't think too hard, Jongin. I'll kill them if they try to come for you. That's what I'll do," Jongdae said, patting Jongin’s shoulder.

"Then what if the neighbor files a petition against me?" he asked, eyes widening. 

"Then I'll kill them, too," Jongdae shrugged, "That's what I'm good at, right? So don't worry. I’ll keep you alive." 

“And what if you die?” Jongin asked, “Die trying to do all of that?”

“Me?” Jongdae said, pointing at himself as he dragged out his syllables, “ _Die_? Come on. Death’s a weakass bitch who can’t kill me.” 

Jongin finally took off his glasses, placed them in the case, and set them down on the coffee table before burying his face in his hands. 

"Just tell me you have a plan after watching me panic the whole day at work," Jongin said, “Let’s finish this job as quickly as possible before I lose any more years of my life from this stress. Please.” 

Jongdae scooted closer to Jongin and picked up his laptop.    

"Who the fuck do you think I am?" he said, "A member of A.S.S?" 

"Just kidding," he said, laughing at Jongin's expression, "Here's the plan."

 

 

ϟ

 

 

“So,” the Director said, causing Jongin to snap out of the past and remember where he was, “Is there any reason you just described your average work day for a few minutes?” 

“I wanted you to see what my day was usually like,” Jongin said, attempting to flex his arms. But the clamp around his chest was far too tight, and all Jongin could do was take a shallow breath and attempt to remain as composed as possible given the situation. “You know, the calm before the chaos.” 

“You could’ve started with the chaos and saved us time,” the Director said, turning to glance at the monitors. There had been nothing but green consistently flashing throughout the room since Jongin had first started recounting what had happened. 

“No, this was necessary,” Jongin said, “I described an average day so you could have a baseline. What my heart rate’s like while I’m talking and narrating, so you won’t question me when we talk about other things.” 

“We’ve already achieved a baseline,” the Director said. 

“Yeah. With yes or no questions,” Jongin said, “I’ve been here too many time to know that you’ll try to use anything against me. So this is a re-establishment of my baseline. This is what my day was, how I fill out my paperwork, and how I feel before I go home. That’s all. That’s the truth. So I’m not lying, I haven’t lied, and I won’t lie about what comes next.”  

“What comes next…” the Director said, “That’s when you met Kim Jongdae, right? The day after the one you just described.” 

“Yes,” Jongin said, feeling as if the cold metal around his chest was squeezing him tighter and tighter, “That’s when I met Jongdae.”

 

 

ϟ

 

 

Jongin met Jongdae outside of his work building the next morning while the two of them waited in line to pass through the checkpoint. Today, Jongdae had traded his ripped jeans for tailored, sleek pinstripe slacks, and a leather jacket for a matching suit jacket. He’d borrowed a bag from Jongin’s closet, which was no doubt stuffed to the brim with guns and bullets. 

“Jongin. Stop looking so fidgety. You’ll give yourself away,” Jongdae’s voice crackled in his ear. Jongin had thought using comms was too risky and too obvious, but the comms Jongdae presented him with were made to blend in with its user’s ears. 

“I can’t help it,” Jongin covered his mouth with his hand to conceal his lips as he harshly whispered, “Why did you come dressed like that? Wouldn’t it have been easier for you to dress as a facilities worker or something? Or you could’ve borrowed my clothes…There was no need to overdress.” 

“I always work in style, Jongin. You should try it sometime. Aren’t you sick of wearing the same clothes every day? D.O.U.C.H.E. has really killed your sense of adventure. Sad,” Jongdae said.

Jongin repressed the urge to turn around and glare at Jongdae. 

“Good morning,” an android said once it was Jongin’s turn in line, “What is your name?” 

“Kim Jongin,” Jongin said, raising his bracelet to the android’s scanner, “I am authorized to work here.” 

“Kim Jongin…” the android said, “Yesterday, you wore glasses. Today, they are gone.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t need them today,” Jongin said. 

“Okay,” the android replied, “Have a good day, Kim Jongin.” 

Jongin nodded in response and headed towards the elevator for the first part of the plan. 

As Jongin waited, he watched in disbelief as Jongin smiled his way through the checkpoint, answering the android’s questions so effortlessly that Jongin reminded himself never to trust anything Jongdae told him again. Instead of following Jongin, Jongdae approached the facilities worker who was mopping the floor and greeted him warmly. 

“We’ll be holding a fire drill here sometime soon,” Jongdae said, “And I thought I’d give you a heads up. When anyone shouts _fire_ , pull the sprinklers as fast as you can. A second between now and then can really save the building from danger, you know.” 

“Yes, yes, of course!” the facilities worker smiled. 

Jongin stepped into the elevator before he could see what Jongdae was up to next. Inside the elevator, Jongin focused on the first part of their plan, which was supposed to be simple. Theoretically. All he had to do was work as usual while Jongdae planted the virus in the computer room.

So this morning, like every other morning for the past three months, Jongin sat down and attempted to read his first petition of the day. But Jongdae apparently never learned how to shut up and distracted Jongin with his constant updates. 

“I’m on the floor. There’s no one there,” Jongdae said. 

“That’s because I told you they were in their morning meeting,” Jongin said, finally reading the cover letter of this petition.

 

REASONS FOR EX—

 

“Entering the computer room,” Jongdae said. 

Jongin ignored him and tried to reread the document.

 

REASONS FOR EXTER—

 

“Done,” Jongdae said, “Wow. How fucking easy was that?” 

“ _What_?” Jongin harshly whispered, letting his pen slip out of his fingers, “That was too fast…How did you finish that in _seconds_?” 

“Well, I had your help,” Jongdae laughed. It was a laugh Jongin didn’t return, as he felt something twist in his stomach. 

“Yeah,” Jongin said. He’d thought he had more time, but now that Jongdae had finished the first phase so quickly, all the barely suppressed adrenaline had manifested into quicker breathing and trembling hands. 

“It’s your turn now,” Jongdae sweetly said, “Go.” 

Jongin shakily pulled himself up out of the chair and stood. He glanced around his office because it might be the last time he ever saw it if things went badly. And before he could lose his nerve, Jongin felt himself walk out of his office and up the stairs. 

Because the next part of the plan was to distract the Director and lead him away from his office while Jongdae searched for the safe, cracked it, and destroyed the flash drives containing his information and Sehun’s. Jongdae hadn’t told Jongin exactly how he was even going to sneak into the Director’s office unnoticed, but that wasn’t Jongin’s problem. Jongin himself was more worried that the Director would take one look and somehow _know_ he’d done something wrong. 

“Hello. Why are you here again?” the Director’s secretary greeted Jongin. 

“I’m here for a meeting. I have some things to say to the Director,” Jongin said in the most normal voice he could manage. 

The secretary glanced at Jongin’s bracelet, and when it remained green, she nodded and led him to the Director’s office. She knocked once before opening the door to reveal the Director already seated at his desk, his laptop in front of him. 

“Data log entry—” the Director said before he noticed Jongin and his secretary and pulled a smile onto his face. “Jongin. I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” 

“I…wanted to talk again,” Jongin said. 

“Are you free to meet with him?” the secretary asked. 

“Yes,” the Director nodded, “Come inside, Jongin.” 

“Actually,” Jongin swallowed hard, “It’s a little stuffy in your room. Can we take a walk instead?"

The Director studied Jongin, looking frozen as he stared.

“Logs updated,” a voice announced from the Director’s laptop. 

“Yes, Jongin,” the Director nodded, closing his laptop, “If you insist. One moment. You’re not in a rush, right?” 

“Of course not,” Jongin said. It wasn’t like he was currently involved in a time sensitive operation after all. Not at all. 

The Director pulled out his phone, turned his screen away from Jongin, and typed something out before guiding Jongin out of the office and down the hall.

Jongin didn’t think he could successfully lead the Director to the lobby, or even outside, so he stopped him after they turned two corners and found themselves in front of the elevators between A.S.S. and the Director’s office. 

The Director patiently waited for him to speak, but just when Jongin was about to open his mouth, Jongdae’s voice crackled through the comms. 

“I’m in. Give me as much time as you can,” Jongdae said. 

Jongin took a deep breath, hoping the Director heard absolutely none of that, and began distracting. 

“I wanted to talk to you about yesterday’s conversation,” Jongin said. 

“Of course,” the Director nodded, “I am aware how much transferring back to A.S.S. means to you, Jongin. But you have to do it for the right reasons.” 

“Right reasons?” Jongin asked, feeling his eyebrows slightly furrow.

“I found the safe,” Jongdae said, “The fucker hid it behind his bookshelf. Can you believe the books aren’t even real? Wow….Keep talking for five minutes because that’s all I’ll need.”

Jongin wanted to ask Jongdae how he could possibly finish cracking a safe in five minutes, but all he did was smile politely and pretend like he wasn’t involved in anything illegal or dangerous, no. 

“Well,” the Director said, “I think it’s obvious why you wanted to transfer back even if you do believe in what the program stands for.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” Jongin said. He’d come here to ask the Director a few questions to keep him occupied, but now he was losing more control of the situation as every second passed. 

The Director looked behind Jongin, waved, and beckoned for someone to join them. Jongin turned around and. Froze. 

There, striding towards them looking as beautiful as the first day they met and the last day they spent together, was who Jongin had wanted to see the most and the least. At least he looked just as confused as Jongin did once he approached. 

“ _Yixing_?” Jongin said. 

Yixing stood a few feet away from both Jongin and the Director, some unrecognizable emotion wrinkling his features for a moment. 

“Jongin?” Yixing said, “What are you doing here? You don’t work on this floor anymore.” 

Jongin’s jaw dropped at the audacity, and he spluttered for a few moments before turning away. 

“And whose fault was that?” he said, folding his arms tightly across his chest. 

“Now, now,” the Director said, “There’s no need to be like that. I called you here, to talk about this, Yixing. Jongin has told me he wanted to transfer back to D.O.U.C.H.E., but—” 

“No,” Yixing bluntly said, causing Jongin to finally turn back around and glare at his infuriatingly beautiful face, “We’ve already replaced him with another agent, and we’re too busy to retrain him since we’ve been busy with work…problems.” 

Replaced. That word caused some of the anger to melt, his shoulders to slump, and his gaze to fall away to the floor. 

“I’m sensing this is a really bad time to talk, but I’ve opened the safe. And we have a problem,” Jongdae said. 

“You’re not the only one with problems,” Jongin said to Jongdae. He only realized how loudly he had spoken when both Yixing and the Director stared at him. 

“I know, Jongin,” Yixing said, taking a deep sigh. He shifted, adjusting the rolled up sleeves of his white button-up, and tried again. “How have you been doing?” 

Jongin wanted to laugh. Now, after months of silence, he asked? 

“Fuck. Okay…There are at least hundreds of flash drives in here. Maybe thousands,” Jongdae said. 

“I’m physically fine. Perfectly recovered. It was just a scratch,” Jongin said even though he was most definitely not fine right now. A thousand flash drives? He’d have to drag this conversation out for hours. 

“It wasn’t a scratch, Jongin,” Yixing gently said, earning a glare from Jongin. 

“Well, it was to me,” Jongin scowled, “It was nothing at all.” 

“You almost—” Yixing started to say before Jongin cut him off. 

“No I didn’t,” Jongin said, “Don’t you see me breathing? I’m alive.” 

As both of them fell silent, Jongin bitterly thought that their first meeting in months would have been better than this. But what could he have expected after everything that had happened? After Yixing had left him?

The Director coughed and attempted to excuse himself. But Jongin, teetering between the precarious edge of pissed and panicking, refused to let him go. 

“ _You_ ,” Jongin loudly called. Later, he’d agonize over addressing his boss in such a way. “Come back here. We’re not done. Don’t think you can pin Yixing on me and leave so fast.” 

The Director stopped in his tracks, staying still for a moment before he slowly turned around. 

“My apologies, Jongin,” the Director smiled, “Your conversation seemed private. Something I wasn’t sure if I should hear.”

“Whatever is between us is none of your business,” Jongin said, pausing to remember there was nothing between them anymore, “But you made it your business when you called him here for me without telling either of us.”

Jongin’s words left the Director and Yixing speechless, both of them staring at him as if he had lied ten times in a row. 

“Please continue to go off. It’s such a nice time killer,” Jongdae suddenly said, “There are labels on the flash drives, but this fucker didn’t organize anything by alphabetical order, so give me more time.” 

“That’s right,” Jongin snapped, “Keep looking.”  

“Do watch your tone, Jongin,” the Director said, folding his arms together. 

But Jongin had enough. He’d had enough of the paperwork, of the petitions, of every single thing going wrong this week, and continued speaking his mind. If he got fired, then he didn’t care. At least not in this moment. 

“I really don’t get it,” Jongin said, “Only one mission goes wrong, and suddenly both of you think that it’s the end of the world? That it’s the end of my career? That you can just bench me to an office to fill out paperwork? _Really?_ I’m wasting away in D.O.U.C.H.E.” 

Jongin heard clapping and an enthusiastic _yeah, you fucking tell them!_ buzzing in his ears and took a deep breath. 

“I told you, Jongin,” the Director said, “We can transfer you when you’re fully recovered.” 

“No we can’t,” Yixing firmly said, matching the volume of Jongin’s own voice. 

Jongin stared at the lights above him, unwilling to look Yixing in the eyes while he repeated what he had told him three months ago before he transferred Jongin away.  

“It wasn’t one mission gone wrong, Jongin,” Yixing said, a little softer, a little gentler. Jongin still wouldn’t look at him. “It was one mission that was almost your last. That’s why we can’t transfer you back.” 

Jongin rubbed his face and shook his head. 

“I’m fine now. I’m alive now. So I don’t see what’s the problem,” Jongin insisted.

“You know what’s the problem,” Yixing said, “It’s your tendency to—” 

“Stop,” Jongin shook his head, “I wouldn’t do it for anybody.” 

“Don’t do it again,” Yixing said, “That’s why I transferred you. So you never do it again.” 

Jongin finally looked at him, startled when he couldn’t find the Yixing he thought he knew three months ago. Yixing stared at him for a second more, his gaze softening ever so slightly before he turned to the Director. 

“I have nothing else to say to him. If that’s all you called me for, then I’ll leave now,” Yixing said. 

The Director nodded once, and before Jongin knew it, there was Yixing turning his back on him and walking out of his life once again.

“I saved your life,” Jongin shouted, his voice echoing in the empty space, “Why are you pushing me away?” 

Yixing stopped, saying nothing, moving nowhere as the echoes faded into silence. 

“Wow. Drama,” Jongdae said, “I’ll punch him if you want. Kill him. If you want.” 

“You’re usually never like this, Jongin,” the Director said, “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Nothing,” Jongin hastily said. 

His bracelet flashed red. 

Clamping a hand on his wrist, Jongin looked up to find Yixing’s jaw dropped open and the Director’s eyes widening. 

“Damn,” Jongdae said, “That was a lie wasn’t it.” 

“Nothing’s wrong at all,” Jongin tried again, attempting to mean what he said by speaking a little louder. But of course he didn’t mean what he said at all, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when his bracelet remained red. 

“Jongin?” Yixing asked in a hushed voice, “Why are you lying?” 

“What are you lying about?” the Director asked. The androids that flanked him shot Jongin’s body with horizontal red lasers, scanning him for abnormalities. 

“Kim Jongin shows signs of an elevated heart rate and blood pressure,” one android said. 

“Detainment advised. Further questioning required,” the other android said. 

Jongin took a step backwards, his back hitting a marble wall. 

“Heart rate increasing,” the first android said, “Suspicious behavior detected.” 

“Hold on,” Jongdae said, “I’m coming.” 

“But you’re not done,” Jongin whispered. Would they really detain him for telling one lie? 

“Don’t worry about it. I grabbed some flash drives and shoved them in my bag. Hopefully the right ones are in here,” Jongdae said. 

“Go back,” Jongin said, hearing a door open and slam. 

“Who are you talking to?” Yixing asked. He had stepped in front of an android and stretched out an arm.

“You’re not done talking to me. Go back…go back to what you said before,” Jongin stumbled over his words, trying to regain some control over the situation. “Go back…to how you said you have nothing else to say to me. After all the years we’ve spent together, that’s all you can say?” 

Yixing placed a hand over his mouth and said nothing more. 

“That doesn’t explain why you were lying,” the Director said, “lying is a serious offense.”

“I…” Jongin said, struggling to form any response. Everyone lied. It was impossible not to lie. But only those who lied in front of androids or government officials were punished. Jongin had the unfortunate luck of lying in front of both androids and government officials today. 

Before he could say anything more, he heard Jongdae scream. 

“WHAT THE fuCK IS UP,” Jongdae yelled, causing Jongin to clutch at his chest, startled by the abrupt shouting. 

“Oh shit,” Jongdae said, his voice softer, “I forgot A.S.S. is still in that conference room for that meeting. One second…let’s try that again.” 

“Jongin?” the Director said again, “Answer me.” 

The androids took several steps forward, cornering Jongin into the wall. 

“Wait,” Yixing said, pushing forwards as he stood in front of Jongin and faced the androids. 

Jongin didn’t even have time to overthink the gesture because down the hall, Jongdae was wreaking havoc. 

“WHAT THE fu CK IS UP MY GUYS!” Jongdae yelled. As he heard three gunshots and screaming, Jongin covered his eyes with his hands and sighed. If he could sink to the floor and lower his head in his hands without being suspected of doing anything illegal, then he would. He really would have. 

What had he done? He’d really set Kim Jongdae loose in his own workplace hadn’t he. 

“Jongin, you’ll be detained and taken in for interrogations if you cannot tell us what you’ve lied about,” the Director said, motioning at the androids to move forwards. 

“ _Wait,”_ Yixing said, holding out a hand as the androids started reaching for Jongin’s arms. 

Jongin was spared from whatever fate awaited him in detainment because out of nowhere, sirens began blaring, plunging the whole floor in flashing scarlet light. A.S.S.’s receptionist sprinted towards them, waving her hands as she screamed _help!_

“There’s a problem,” she said once she reached them, bending over to catch her breath. 

“Speak,” the Director ordered. Jongin pretended that he had absolutely no idea what was going on, even as he heard gunshots popping through his comms. 

“Kim Jongdae is here,” the receptionist said, looking up with wide eyes, “Somehow he’s snuck into the office and opened gunfire." 

“Oh my God,” the Director said running towards the office, his androids closely following behind. 

“Stay here,” Yixing said, grabbing Jongin’s shoulders, “ _Please_.” 

“They need our help,” Jongin said, jerking his body away from Yixing’s grasp and sprinting after the Director. 

Because it was the truth. His co-workers needed all the help they could get since they were facing Jongdae after all. On a normal day, their collective field training would allow them to survive thirty minutes, maybe forty-five minutes in Jongdae’s presence. But today, they’d been attacked when they had least expected it. And Jongin didn’t trust Jongdae to play nice. 

Inside A.S.S.’s office, the agents had managed to push the fight outside of the conference room, but that didn’t mean the fight was going any better than Jongin expected. Jongdae had used an overturned metal table for cover, looking unbothered as he returned what little fire the agents shot. 

Jongin slowly crept into the office, hands over his mouth as he saw agents laying on the ground, screaming as they clutched their stomachs, their legs, wherever they’d been shot. At least none of them were dead. Yet. 

Jongin edged closer to Jongdae, wondering if he could just…take him out right here. But how? He wasn’t authorized to carry a gun, and he guessed it’d take more than a punch to knock Jongdae out. 

“Jongin,” Yixing shouted from behind him, causing Jongin to turn around, “Step back.”

Jongin had only turned around for one second before he felt an arm snake around his neck and pull him into a chokehold. 

“Pretend to look scared,” Jongdae wihspered, pressing a gun to Jongin’s head. 

Jongin didn’t have to pretend, though he did exaggerate his choking as he clawed at Jongdae’s arm. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Yixing said, keeping his gun steady. His eyes were wide, his shoulders tense, and Jongin wondered where was this Yixing minutes ago.

“Drop your weapons, or I kill him,” Jongdae said, pressing the gun harder against Jongin’s head. Jongin gritted his teeth and hoped Jongdae wouldn’t accidentally pull the trigger. 

“Put your weapons _down_ ,” Jongdae said when Yixing and the rest of the agents refused to comply. 

Jongdae sighed, lifted the gun slightly away from Jongin’s head, and pulled the trigger. 

“I’m not joking,” Jongdae said, causing Yixing to immediately drop his gun. Jongin wondered if this, too, was a lie, or if Jongdae was actually telling the truth for once. 

“Let him go,” Yixing said.

“So you can shoot me?” Jongdae let out a laugh. He loosened his grip on Jongin’s throat, but Jongin continued coughing anyways to avoid appearing suspicious.  “I don’t think so. He’s my way out of here.” 

Jongin had always wondered if Yixing had meant it when had said he didn’t want anything to do with him anymore three months ago. Today, he had his answer. 

“Yixing,” Jongin gasped even though he could breathe quite comfortably. If he couldn’t lie, then he could at least act and sell the illusion Jongdae was creating. 

“Why are you doing this?” Yixing asked, “If it’s money you want, then let him go, and we will transfer any amount you want.” 

“Money?” Jongdae laughed, “No wonder you motherfuckers have never even managed to come even close to me. Why the fuck would I want money when I’m richer than every single of one of you in this ugly ass office? My husband _drips_ luxury, and I bathe in your crystalized tears. Fuck off.” 

“There has to be a reason you’re doing this. There has to be something you want,” Yixing said, “Whatever you need, whatever you want, I can get for you. Just please… _please_. Let him go.”

While they were in the field, Yixing usually relied on his instincts and Jongin relied on what he read in training manuals and textbooks. So if Yixing was following a step by step guide to resolving hostage situations, then he must have been truly desperate. 

Jongdae, as helpful as ever, refused to answer Yixing’s questions, and said whatever he wanted to say. Lived however he wanted to live. 

“Enjoy the present I’ve left you,” Jongdae announced. Jongin didn’t have to look at Jongdae to know that his lips had curled up into a dangerous smile. “This is for everyone you’ve hunted down. Everyone you’re still hunting.” 

On cue, the computer room exploded, sending people screaming and ducking for cover. 

“What the…” Jongin shouted, staring at the broken glass, the smoke billowing from the room. Jongdae used that distraction to grab Jongin’s hand and escape through the door. As they ran, Jongdae continued to point a gun at Jongin, but Jongin was too busy screaming to care. 

“What the… _heck_ …I thought that was supposed to be a _virus_.” Jongin shouted. Jongdae shot every camera they passed, and when he’d taken out every camera in the hallway they entered, he spoke. 

“It was,” Jongdae said, pulling Jongin behind a corridor before shooting down three more cameras. “But if their servers are destroyed and their computers blown to bits, then they can’t even try recovering the lost data. And it’s also your cover story. I was here to blow up your office and commit some casual terrorism.” 

“Cover story?” Jongin spluttered, “ _Casual terrorism?”_

“Try swearing, Jongin. You’ll be able to express yourself much easier,” Jongdae laughed, pulling him down the next hallway. Sirens continued to blare and flash above them, painting their skin red and tainting their hearts with adrenaline.

 

_INTRUDER ALERT. INTRUDER ALERT. INTRUDER ALERT._

“Excuse me, I’m just worried about how I’m walking out of here without losing my job or my life,” Jongin shouted. Every time they turned a corner, Jongin half expected to run into an army of androids ready to exterminate them, and it had been a miracle that they had only ran past a few startled employees. 

“You know I’ve got this, Jongin,” Jongdae grinned, turning his head to wink, “Don’t even worry about it.” 

“You have another plan?” Jongin said. 

“How the fuck do you think I’ve done this job for years and years without getting caught?” Jongdae said. He slowed down, peeking around the next corner before drawing back and shaking his head.  

“Androids,” Jongdae said, “They’ve got guns out.” 

“What are we going to do?” Jongin whispered, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t die today. No, not today. Not now. He hadn’t even called his mother yet today. What would she say when the police came knocking on her door to tell her that her son had died at the hands of an android, an assassin, and his own foolishness.

“Today’s their lucky day,” Jongdae said, peeking around the corner again, “Normally I would’ve blasted my way through, but once they review whatever camera footage they recover, they’ll question why you didn’t run away when you had the chance. So let’s take the stairs.”  

In the stairwell, Jongdae pressed the gun to Jongin’s head again and leaned closer to whisper to him.  

“When I shoot the camera, pretend to struggle,” Jongdae said. Jongin breathed in response. 

As soon as Jongdae lifted the gun away from him, Jongin struggled, swinging a punch that landed across Jongdae’s face. After Jongdae shot the camera, he gingerly touched his cheek and laughed. 

“You’ve got guts, Jongin,” Jongdae said, throwing his arm over Jongin’s shoulder, “Good.” 

If Jongin ever survived this, he’d go straight into retirement. That was for sure. 

They repeated this routine on several more floors until Jongin was too tired to continue onwards. Playing the victim was exhausting. He’d rather trade places with Jongdae and hold a gun to his head. 

“Stop dragging your feet, Jongin,” Jongdae ordered as Jongin slowly stomped down two more steps, “They’ll find us before we even know it.” 

Before Jongin could argue with Jongdae, another robotic voice sounded over the intercom. 

 

_EMERGENCY NOTICE: PLEASE HEAD TO ACCESS CHECKPOINTS TO VERIFY YOUR TRUTH._

 

“New plan,” Jongdae said, dragging Jongin out of the stairwell and into the floor they were trapped in, “That was convenient.” 

Did Jongdae even have to lift a finger to do anything? Did everything always go his way? Maybe he had survived only on dumb luck and foolish fearlessness all this time. 

“Blend in,” Jongdae whispered. He held Jongin’s shoulder with one hand and covertly pressed his gun against him with his other. Silently, they trailed behind other employees rushing for the checkpoint. 

Androids stood by the elevators, checking everyone’s bracelet before letting them pass through. Jongin avoided eye contact with them, afraid they’d sense his rapid heartbeat and question his darting eyes. The androids didn’t stop them here, didn’t stop anyone at all. They only made sure their bracelet was the appropriate color before sending them down to the lobby for the final checkpoint. 

When they reached the lobby, Jongin gasped for air as his heart raced faster and faster. If it weren’t for Jongdae holding him upright, Jongin was sure he would have collapsed on the floor. 

 _Relax_ , he tried to tell himself. Not that it did any good. 

“Calm down,” Jongdae told him, “It’ll be fine. Let me do the talking, and I’ll get you out of here.” 

Jongin blurted out a vague reply, a jumble of words that made no sense to his own self. 

“Of course,” Jongdae responded anyways, squeezing his shoulder, “I’ve got you. Don’t worry. Dying’s not part of the plan. It never is.”

Whatever Jongin was going to say died in his throat when Jongdae smiled at him and nodded encouragingly. Not that Jongin was complaining, but he couldn’t understand why Jongdae was helping him. And why Jongdae was being so _nice_ to him. 

“Hi,” Jongdae said to the android in charge once it was their turn in line, “This poor person recently fainted due to the stress of the intruder alert. I’m taking him home before he collapses again.” 

The android stared at Jongin and raised their hand out, shooting out red lasers to scan Jongin.

“Sweaty hands. Pale face. Abnormal heart beat,” the android said before lowering their hand, “But is this true?” 

Jongin nodded and pretended to look faint. He didn’t have to pretend that hard if he were honest. 

“Verbal answers are required in emergency situations,” the android said, “Please answer.” 

“He lost his voice,” Jongdae answered for Jongin, “so he can’t.” 

“Your bracelet is green, so you are telling the truth,” the android said after a pause, “You may proceed.”

Jongin held his breath as they walked past the android and out the building. 

“Steady,” Jongdae said after Jongin almost stumbled, “We’re almost there.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes, both taking the time to recover from the previous events. With time, Jongin slowly relaxed, his heart beat beginning to return to its normal resting pace. He was about to thank Jongdae for rescuing him and helping him out of the building before Jongdae chose to guide Jongin away from the direction of his apartment and towards the city’s shadiest district. A place where cameras were there for show, where people would look the other way if bracelets turned red. Where everyone could lie freely.

“Where are we going?” Jongin asked, “My place is the other way.” 

“That’s the first place they’ll check since I still have you,” Jongdae said, “Say good-bye to your apartment for a little while.” 

“A…a little while?” Jongin said, dragging his feet along the grimy pavement, “You never told me I’d have to give up my place.” 

“Didn’t you think this through? You’re conspiring with a wanted man. A fugitive of the law. And worse…A liar. And it's only a matter of time before they figure out you’ve been working with me,” Jongdae winked. 

Jongin shoved Jongdae and stormed off, hearing loud laughter behind him. He didn’t know where he was going, but anywhere far from Jongdae was fine. He should’ve called the police the second he saw Jongdae in his living room. It would’ve saved him the trouble and the near heart attack. 

“Aren’t you going to ask where we have to go?” Jongdae asked from behind him. Jongin looked back to shoot Jongdae a glare, finding him trailing a meter behind. 

Jongin refused to answer Jongdae’s question and opened his mouth to continue the rant he had started earlier today. 

“First you put me in danger, you put my job at risk…and then you lie to me and shoot at my co-workers and blow up the whole place. I can’t believe you,” Jongin said, gesticulating violently as he passed by a gritty bar where someone with a red bracelet eagerly entered. 

“Did you really expect anything different?” Jongdae asked, “I am what I am, and you should trust my past more than my lies.” 

Jongin didn’t know what to think of Jongdae’s words and changed the subject, 

“Where are we going?” Jongin muttered. He could envision the smile that slid across Jongdae’s face as he conceded. A self-satisfied, smug smile. A second later, he felt an arm hang around him and fingers press into his shoulder. The gesture might have seemed friendly to any outsiders, but it felt more like a warning to Jongin. 

Jongdae hummed as he guided them throughout the streets, only stopping for street lights and pretty sights. After a while, they entered the warehouse district near the harbor. Tall warehouses almost completely concealed the view of the ocean where rusty ships tied to the docks with frayed ropes bobbed up and down the dark water. 

Jongdae looked around him before sliding the door of an old warehouse open, waiting for Jongin to enter before locking the door behind them. The warehouse seemed to be a storage unit, rows and rows of different sized, unlabeled boxes filling the space. Jongin followed Jongdae as he wove between row after row until he pulled down a hanging ladder and climbed upwards. When it was Jongin’s turn to climb, Jongdae held the ladder steady.

Unlike the ground floor, this elevated space was empty, save for Jongdae’s bag placed near the cracked windows. 

“I thought you left that at my place,” Jongin said, pointing at Jongdae’s bag. 

“I brought it back while you were at work on recon day,” Jongdae said, placing the bag he had used today on the floor before pushing open the windows. 

“And you didn’t care to tell me I should’ve packed?” Jongin said, sinking onto the floor, tracing the floor with a finger before lifting his finger up and wiping it on his pants after finding his finger ashy.  “Hey, I would’ve thought an assassin who’s filthy rich would’ve picked a more luxurious safehouse.” 

“I knew I’d be crashing at your place, so this was temporary,” Jongdae waved Jongin’s comments away. He remained by the window, sticking his hand outside to feel the slight wind that bustled by. 

“You knew?” Jongin asked, “How did you know I would say yes?” 

“Because I know what you want to know the most. The truth you couldn’t find. The lies everyone kept telling you,” Jongdae said, moving his hand back inside before closing the window completely. He leaned on the window sill and faced Jongin with a hint of a smile on his face. “Who killed your father? I’m one of the few people who really know.”

“Are you going to tell me now?’ Jongin asked. From Jongin’s view on the ground, half of Jongdae was hidden by the shadows, the other half illuminated by the distorted light that shone through the fragmented windows.

“Nope,” Jongdae said, “I haven’t destroyed the flash drives yet. I’ll tell you after both mine and Sehun’s are completely gone.” 

“Did you take them with you?” Jongin asked. 

“Pray they’re in here,” Jongdae said, picking up his bag, unzipping it, and upending it onto the floor. 

Guns, knives, other weapons, and a pile of flash drives tumbled out of the bag. Jongdae shook it three more times before kneeling and beginning to check the drives. Jongin picked up a few to help, organizing them into a pile of the ones they needed and the ones they didn’t. So far, there was only a large stack of unneeded flash drives with hand-written labels.

 

FINANCIAL DATA QUARTER 1

 

ANNUAL OVERSIGHT REVIEW

 

Everything sounded important, but Jongin didn’t care about any one of them unless they had Jongdae’s or Sehun’s names on them.

 

AND_BACKUP_SOFTWARE

 

DENIED PETITIONS

 

ACCEPTED PETITIONS

 

The both of them combed through the flash drives in silence, Jongdae rapidly turning one over twice to make sure it wasn’t important before tossing it in the rejected pile. Jongin took his time with each flash drive, rubbing the label to make sure a secret label hadn’t been concealed underneath. 

After half a minute of searching, Jongin stared at the flash drive he had picked up, rereading the name three times before closing his hand over it. He could still pretend like he hadn’t seen it, and maybe he could give it back to the Director to beg for his job back. 

Jongin opened his hand and stared at the name again.

“How do you spell Sehun?” Jongin asked. 

“S-E-H-U-N,” Jongdae said, the brightness returning to his expression at the mention of the man. He grinned as he looked up at Jongin. “But I’d spell it L-O-V-E.” 

Something was glimmering in Jongdae’s expression, bursting from his smile. Something that made Jongin hand the flash drive over without hesitating for a second more. 

“I guess it doesn’t have a silent B like I thought,” Jongin half-heartedly tried to joke as he watched Jongdae turn the flash drive over in his hands before he leaped over and hugged Jongin. 

“ _Thank you_ ,” Jongdae said.

“I didn’t do anything. I just picked it up,” Jongin shrugged, “How are you going to destroy it? Do you have another virus to corrupt its data?”

“No,” Jongdae said, leaning to the side to pull out a gun, “I’ll just do it the easy way.” 

Without warning, he placed the flash drive on the floor and shot it, causing Jongin to yell and scamper back. 

“What the…” Jongin said, hands flying to grab at his hair. He was grateful his mother wasn’t here to see the word he had mouthed. 

“Swear a little, Jongin,” Jongdae laughed, bending down to push the remaining fragments together before crushing it under his heel, “Live a lot. Get your heart on and love too much.“ 

But Jongin had loved too much three months ago. So much that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself after Yixing walked away.

“Let’s find yours, too,” Jongin said instead, bending down to look through the remaining flash drives. 

Jongdae sat beside him and hummed another song. His shoulder brushed against Jongin’s as he reached for a flash drive, and he used that excuse to scoot closer. Jongin wrinkled his nose but didn’t stop him. 

“What song is that?” Jongin asked after a minute more of listening to such a wandering, sweet melody. 

“It’s a song I wrote for Sehun,” Jongdae said, throwing another rejected flash drive in the corner of the room, “Want to know what it’s called?” 

“What is it called?” Jongin said, fully aware he was walking straight into a trap as soon as Jongdae’s lips curled up higher. 

“It’s called ‘I Miss You and I Miss Sitting On Your—” 

“ _Okay_ ,” Jongin said, raising a hand to stop Jongdae, glaring as Jongdae threw his head back to laugh, “You know what? Forget I asked.”

Jongdae continued to hum as they continued searching, but the music slowly softened to nothing after they checked the last five flash drives and Jongdae’s was nowhere to be seen. Jongin picked up the last flash drive and threw it across the room. His day of hell had been almost for nothing. Beside him, Jongdae traced the floor with a finger, the song silenced and trapped between his lips. 

“We’ll find it,” Jongin said, not sure why he was comforting this man, of all men to comfort. 

“Oh, we will. I have no doubt,” Jongdae said, though he still sighed, “I have no doubt. I have to, after all. It’s the only way I can retire from all of this and lead a normal life with Sehun. One he deserves.” 

“Sehun…” Jongin mused, remembering what his A.S.S. training had taught him about him. Sehun was taller than Jongdae but younger than him by two years. He was as equally dangerous as Jongdae was, but he wasn’t picky with his weapons. If he didn’t have a gun, he’d use anything at all to fight, his fists and feet included. Jongin was the same age as Sehun, but he could never imagine being friends with him, never imagine anything but running the opposite way if they ever met.

“My husband,” Jongdae sighed again, smiled again, “The love of my life. My heart. My everything.” 

“We get it,” Jongin made a face, “You can stop.” 

“Well, if you were married to the most beautiful and most caring man of all time, then you’d never shut up about how lucky you are either,” Jongdae shrugged, “That’s my husband, and I fucking love him with my whole entire heart.” 

Jongin had exactly two things running through his mind in this moment. Two things and two things only. Appropriate, since he had only two brain cells left after losing nearly all of them in today’s mess. 

One. Jongin didn’t know how caring Sehun could possibly be after remembering the exact statistics of Sehun’s staggering confirmed and unconfirmed kill count. 

Two. Jongin would have liked to agree with Jongdae, to tell him that of _course_ they should live as loudly as possible, love as loudly as possible. But after Yixing, he only pulled a discarded flash drive and wrenched the top off to distract himself. 

“I can’t relate,” Jongin muttered. 

“What about Yixing?” Jongdae said, “Who’s he? And why did I feel the immediate urge to punch him once he started talking?” 

At the mention of Yixing, Jongin slumped onto the floor and stared side-ways into nowhere. He’d prefer not to talk about him. 

Which only caused Jongdae to talk more about him. 

“He must be someone important if you’re like this,” Jongdae said, reaching over to squeeze Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin hated that he actually found it mildly comforting, “You said you saved his life. Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No,” Jongin said, sticking his lips out as he pouted, “and if I did, I wouldn’t want to talk to you about it.” 

“So you _do_ want to talk about it,” Jongdae said. 

“What? How did you get that from what I just said?” Jongin asked, sitting up so he could face Jongdae properly. 

“Tell me,” Jongdae whined, poking Jongin’s arm relentlessly until Jongin reluctantly answered. 

“He’s just my ex-partner from A.S.S.,” Jongin mumbled, “That’s all.” 

“Doesn’t sound like that’s all,” Jongdae said, tapping a steady rhythm on the floorboards. 

“Well I’m not telling you anything else,” Jongin stubbornly said, “You already know too much, Jongdae. You know where I work, what my building looks like, what my co-workers look like. And you’ve destroyed the whole place.” 

Jongdae grinned, leaning back as he supported himself with his hands. 

“I have to protect my friends somehow,” he said, “when Sehun and I are gone, they’ll be on their own without us.” 

Jongin could begrudgingly respect Jongdae’s resolve, as he understood doing anything to protect loved ones.

“How many more like you are out there?” Jongin asked.

“Firstly, there is no one else like me,” Jongdae said, stretching out a finger with every point he made, “and secondly, why would I tell an ex-A.S.S. turned D.O.U.C.H.E. that?” 

“I showed you where I work?” Jongin protested, “I literally gave you access to top secret information?” 

“So?” Jongdae said.

“Fine,” Jongin muttered, turning away. There was no use in attempting a conversation with Jongdae if he was either going to lie or withhold the truth.

Jongdae stared at the pout on Jongin’s lips and let out a small laugh. 

“Fine,” he mimicked Jongin, “Let’s just say one of us can handle five to ten of you at the same time. In that case, remember we’d be able to kill all of you with only thirty percent of our group active.” 

“Great,” Jongin said, not surprised in the least, “that’s exactly what we need. More of you running around the place.” 

So they had all miscalculated, had improperly researched. The A.S.S. analysts had predicted only about ten assassins as deadly as Jongdae, but clearly they were all wrong. When Jongin somehow transferred back, he’d have to try harder. Fight harder.

“We have to make money somehow,” Jongdae shrugged.

“Get a real job,” Jongin said.

“I told you. I also work as a musician,” Jongdae said.

“Don’t lie to me, Jongdae,” Jongin shook his head. This was another one of Jongdae’s lies, right? Jongin was getting better at detecting them if that were the case. 

“Listen,” Jongdae shot Jongin a look, “Most of us have grown up living rough. Real jobs aren’t for people like us. You really think I’d chain myself to a desk looking at papers and shit? Fuck no.”

“I’m sure there must be something you can do,” Jongin insisted, “something actually worthwhile you can do with your life.”

He almost felt bad for a split second when he saw Jongdae’s face shift. Then he reminded himself of the crimes Jongdae had committed and relaxed as that twisting feeling passed.

“Retire. That’s what I’ll do. Retire,” Jongdae said at last, a little softer. He didn’t meet Jongin’s gaze, staring out the broken window instead. “It’s best for all of us. So help me, and I’ll disappear.” 

“Fine,” Jongin said. It wasn’t like he could show up to work like nothing had happened. He’d be led straight to detention. “But don’t back out on your promise.” 

Jongdae raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, a look Jongin roughly translated to _you really fucking think I’d go back on my word?_

“So what’s the plan?” Jongin said, in an attempt to make Jongdae _stop_. 

Jongdae lifted his scarf over his lips and pulled his laptop out of his bag. 

“I planted a bug in the Director’s office. Let’s listen and go from there,” Jongdae said, his voice slightly muffled, “He’s probably noticed the missing flash drives and tightened security. 

Jongin scooted a little closer, peering over Jongdae’s shoulder as he watched him type strings of red code he didn’t understand. A loading bar soon appeared, and once it reached maximum capacity, Jongdae tapped a key to increase the volume. Jongin held his breath, wondering if the Director had already realized he was working with Jongdae, if he had lied more than just a few times, if everything was all his fault. But there was nothing to worry about, at least not right now, as they heard…nothing. 

“I should have expected this,” Jongin said after ten seconds of silence. Jongdae let out a laugh and pulled his scarf downwards. 

“Did you really think they’d talk when we want them to?” Jongdae said, “In this field of work, you have to be patient, or you blow the job.”

“You could’ve finished this job,” Jongin said, reaching over to stubbornly tap the volume button in case the Director was speaking very quietly. “You didn’t have to go back for me. I wasn’t going to get caught. Really. You ruined your chance to find your flash drive.” 

Jongdae set the laptop down in front of him and played with the edges of his scarf. The two of them continued to sit in silence, but since this was Jongdae after all, it was a silence that didn’t last very long. 

“If I let them catch you, you would’ve given away everything in questioning,” Jongdae slowly said, “I know your type after all. You can’t lie to even save your own life.” 

Then he turned to look at Jongin and smiled.

“Besides. You could’ve just said thank you,” Jongdae said, poking Jongin’s arm. 

“Whatever,” Jongin huffed, “We’re still sitting here with your flash drive missing and my work contract probably terminated.”

“It could be worse,” Jongdae said, “You could have died. 

“They wouldn’t have shot me,” Jongin shook his head, “I wasn’t in any real danger…as long as you didn’t lie about not killing me.”

“It wasn’t a lie,” Jongdae said, “I really won’t harm you. Promise.” 

“A promise from you isn’t worth anything,” Jongin said. He’d said those words without thinking, letting them fall right out of his mouth, but for a second, he wished he could sweep up his syllables and take them back after seeing Jongdae’s expression glitch for a second. 

“Your mother really raised you to be _so_ trusting of others,” Jongdae said, stretching the corners of his lips into an attempt at a smile, “Good. If you want to survive in this society, don’t trust anybody but your family.” 

Family…Jongin would have to call his mother soon since she always worried if they went even a few days without speaking. He should call his sisters, too, if he found the chance in the middle of this mess. It’d been a week since he last spoke to them.  

“Do you have a family?” Jongin asked.

“Sehun,” Jongdae said, “Obviously. I love him more than anything or anyone in the world, not that there’s much competition. And when we adopt a kid, I’ll love them, too.” 

“Is there really nothing else you love besides Sehun?” Jongin asked. 

“Music,” Jongdae nodded, “I love jamming to the beat, singing my heart out, and feeling the melody snatch my soul when I listen.”

“Right,” Jongin said, admiring how Jongdae was still maintaining his lie that he was a musician. As if a wanted man like himself could really appear in front of screaming crowds who recorded everything they saw and heard. “Is there anything else?” 

Jongdae’s gaze softened, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, a loud sound rattled the laptop’s speakers. Startled, Jongin clutched his heart and gasped. 

Jongdae pressed a finger to his lips and adjusted the volume. 

“Yixing?” the Director’s voice crackled from the speakers, “What are you doing there?” 

Yixing? 

Jongin leaned closer to the laptop, heart hammering in his chest as he listened.

“How could your security team let _Kim Jongdae_ infiltrate our building? Our office?” Yixing yelled. 

“Hey that’s me,” Jongdae whispered. Jongin harshly shushed him, which of course, made more noise than intended. 

“Yixing,” the Director said, his tone firm, “You—” 

“ _No_ ,” Yixing said. As he continued to speak, the volume of his voice fluctuated. Perhaps he was pacing around the room.  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but your security team let him sneak in. And now our headquarters are destroyed. We’ve lost our data, and…” 

He trailed off for a moment before speaking softer. 

“And now Jongin’s gone,” Yixing finished. 

“High fucking five,” Jongdae said, raising his hand towards Jongin. Jongin ignored him, preferring to focus on Yixing. Jongdae shrugged and high fived his own self. 

“Am I the one who dropped his gun? You should’ve shot him when you had the chance,” the Director said. Never once did he lose his temper, always remaining composed no matter the situation. 

“And risk shooting Jongin?” Yixing said. 

“If I had the shot, I would’ve taken it,” the Director said, “If I am at fault, then you are, too.” 

“I’m assigning myself to Kim Jongdae,” Yixing said, “I’ll bring him in myself. Alive or dead. Whatever it takes to bring Jongin back.” 

Jongin would have been lying if he said something didn’t lurch in his chest right then and there. 

“Wow,” Jongdae yawned, “I’m _so_ scared. But ex…partners, huh…Interesting.” 

He elbowed Jongin twice, but Jongin could only stare at the screen, wondering where this Yixing was hours ago. Where was this Yixing three months ago. 

“Where Jongdae goes, Sehun,” the Director said, “So you might as well bring me both of them. And we’ll end this.” 

Jongin almost cursed when he heard the Director namedrop Sehun. He’d only spent a few days with Jongdae, but he knew by now that he had to start worrying for Yixing’s life. He slightly turned his head to peer at Jongdae as subtly as possible, and sure enough, Jongdae’s face twisted, the smile dropping off his face. 

Yixing and the Director were now discussing logistics of case assignments and how best to track Sehun since he hadn’t been spotted recently, but Jongin wasn’t paying attention.  The thinly veiled rage threatening to burst from Jongdae’s scowl and clenched fists silenced any possible defense or protest Jongin was capable of making. 

“I don’t know who your Yixing is, but I can guess,” Jongdae said, his jaw clenched, “And I’m sorry, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll kill him before he can even look at Sehun.” 

Jongin knew better than to inform Jongdae that Yixing had already looked at Sehun. Many times, in fact, when they were both A.S.S. trainees studying the different assassins their organization had promised to hunt. Instead, he silently watched Jongdae pull out a knife from his pocket and scrape marks into the floorboard. 

“What are we going to do about the servers?” Yixing asked after finishing their discussion of whether or not it would be ideal to leave Sehun alive to lure Jongdae or to kill him on sight. 

“Rebuild them,” the Director said, “I have the backups in my safe. We’re missing a few, probably stolen by Jongdae, but we’ll restore what we have. I’ll move them to the branch headquarters, and we’ll rebuild from there.” 

“When are you leaving?” Yixing asked. 

“Tomorrow,” the Director said. 

“I’m going with you,” Yixing said, “to find Jongin.” 

“All right,” Jongdae said, pouncing and slamming the computer shut, “We’re following them tomorrow. First flight out. So get your rest.” 

Jongin didn’t want to think about how Yixing had acted, how Yixing had spoken, so he focused his attention to Jongdae instead.

“Are you okay?” Jongin found himself saying. 

“I will be when I see him dead,” Jongdae said, bending down to blow the wood shavings away. 

“Can you…maybe…not kill him,” Jongin winced, “Sehun’s file was destroyed, so whatever intel they had is gone.” 

“Tomorrow,” Jongdae said instead, eyes flashing with an emotion Jongin only saw once. A moment when he was seconds away from unconsciousness. “You. Me. Airport. Let’s follow that motherfucker and finish this.” 

“I can’t fly,” Jongin said, “They’ll catch me with a lie at the TSA checkpoints, and I’ll ruin everything again.”

“Then lie,” Jongdae said, typing more incomprehensible codes on his laptop, “It’s simple.” 

“But I _can’t_ ,” Jongin said, imagining every single android at the airport dragging him away the second he opened his mouth, “I really can’t.” 

“You will,” Jongdae said.

“Can you teach me how to lie?” Jongin asked. He couldn’t be detained…couldn’t be questioned for lying at an airport. He couldn’t make his mother worry like that.

Jongdae looked up from the screen and nodded, setting down the laptop as he turned to face Jongin. 

“Say it like you mean it,” Jongdae said, “Own it. Don’t even rehearse your lies. Let it come out naturally, and you should be able to do it without thinking. Why don’t you try now.” 

Jongin cleared his throat, stuck out his bracelet, and pretended Jongdae was an android. 

“I am not worried,” Jongin said as calmly as he could. 

His bracelet flashed red. 

The tips of Jongdae’s lips curled up slightly. 

“I’ll be there. Don’t worry if you can’t lie,” Jongdae said, placing his hand over Jongin’s bracelet to hide the red glare. 

“I know, and that’s why I’m not worried,” Jongin said. 

His bracelet continued to buzz, causing Jongdae’s smile to widen. 

“Am I really that bad? Do you really hate me that much?” he asked. 

“No. Not at all,” Jongin said, struggling to follow Jongdae’s instructions. He always thought of everything he said, something he supposed would potentially kill him at the airport tomorrow. 

When his bracelet remained red, Jongdae let out a laugh.  

“Okay,” Jongdae nodded, “Some people are so afraid of lying they don’t even think of alternatives.” 

“Alternatives?” Jongin asked. 

“If you can’t lie, then we’ll do what we’ve been doing,” Jongdae said, “Cover the lie with a truth. So when they ask why you’re traveling tomorrow, what will you tell them?” 

“I’m traveling with an assassin,” Jongin said. The buzzing finally stopped, the red finally gave way to green. This was what Jongdae meant, right? Speak the truth and hope the absurdity of it would fool others? 

“No,” Jongdae said as he held up a finger, “One. Have a cover. What’s you reason for traveling? Tell them it’s a business trip. Because you and I have business together, and we have business with your team. So say it. You’re traveling for business tomorrow.” 

“I’m traveling for business tomorrow,” Jongin said, holding his breath. When his bracelet didn’t beep or redden, he exhaled and covered his mouth with his hands.

“See? It’s true,” Jongdae smiled, lightly punching Jongin’s arm, “You can get through most checkpoints this way unless the androids are more thorough and ask you to specify.” 

Jongin slowly dropped his hands to his lap, staring at Jongdae like he had looked at one of his sisters when she had successfully taught his five-year-old self how to properly pirouette. 

“What’s your reason for travel?” Jongin asked, “Would it be suspicious if we have the same reason?” 

“No,” Jongdae shook his head, “you’d think androids would be programmed to read connections, but they’re not that sophisticated. I’ll just say I’m traveling for work. Because it is work…My last work before I retire.” 

He nodded thoughtfully and twisted the ring around his fourth finger. 

“What if they ask you what your work is?” Jongin asked, watching the lights around the room dance on the ruby. 

“I’m a musician, and I’m playing a gig,” Jongdae said. Jongin had never seen Jongdae’s bracelet change colors, and he wouldn’t start now either. 

“Really,” Jongin flatly said. 

“Really,” Jongdae nodded, “That’s my cover.” 

“Is that what you would’ve done if you weren’t an assassin?” Jongin asked.

“Please,” Jongdae waved Jongin’s comment away, “I really do play gigs to maintain my cover, and I’m having the fucking time of my life.” 

“The time of your life…killing people,” Jongin said. 

“Killing the gig,” Jongdae said.

“Right,” Jongin said, still sure Jongdae was lying through his teeth, “Well. If there’s no other plans we need to discuss, then I’m going to try and sleep on this cold floor. Please don’t kill me in my sleep or I’ll haunt you forever.” 

Jongdae rummaged through his other bag, pulled out a knitted blanket, and threw it at Jongin. 

“Thanks,” Jongin said, marveling at how soft the burgundy red wool felt.

“I hope you don’t snore,” Jongdae said, retreating to the other side of the room. He turned off the light above them, plunging them into a darkness illuminated only by their glowing green bracelets and the screen of Jongdae’s computer. 

“Good night, Jongin,” Jongdae added, “Rest well. You’re going to need it for tomorrow.” 

Jongin paused for what seemed an eternity before he turned his back on Jongdae, draped the blanket over himself, and mumbled a reply.

“Good night, Jongdae.”

 

 

ϟ ϟ ϟ

 

 

The next morning, Jongin woke to find his body _achin_ g. He was lucky enough to have never slept on the floor, so he was surprised he slept through the whole night. As he slowly stirred, he blearily checked to make sure all his organs were still there and that his throat hadn’t been slit. When he found himself alive and unharmed, he closed his eyes again and—

“Let’s go,” Jongdae said, causing Jongin’s eyes to open a crack. Jongdae’s hair was slightly damp, and though he changed out of his punk clothes and into pants without holes, a professional button-up shirt without any band logos, he kept his earrings on.

“Want some coffee?” Jongdae asked, handing Jongin one of the two cups he held. 

“No,” Jongin said, pulling the blanket over his head, “I want to _sleep_.”

“Well you can’t,” Jongdae said. A second later, Jongin felt the blanket torn away, and he groaned, hit with the sudden chill of a crisp early morning wind. 

“ _No_ ,” Jongin mumbled. 

“Let’s go,” Jongdae said, shaking Jongin’s shoulders until he had no choice but to open his eyes and glare. Jongdae’s smug smile was not the first thing he wanted to see in the morning, so he squeezed his eyes shut again. That, too, was short-lived, as Jongdae finally wrestled Jongin and pulled him up to a sitting position. If Jongdae weren’t Jongdae, Jongin would have absolutely slumped against his shoulder and dozed off. 

“Coffee will wake you up,” Jongdae said, tapping Jongin’s cheek gently in an attempt to keep him conscious, “Here.”

“Poisoned,” Jongin muttered, cracking open one eye. 

“It’s not poisoned,” Jongdae said, taking a sip from both cups, “See?” 

If Jongin couldn’t drink alcohol, then he would chug this coffee even if Jongdae had placed his mouth all over the rim. Letting out yawn, he reached for the cup and took a sip, feeling the coffee warm him almost immediately. As he sat there and tried to wake up, Jongdae bustled around the room, folding the blanket and packing it away, checking his bags to make sure he hadn’t left anything, and cleaning up any evidence of their existence they might have left behind.

A moment later, after Jongin had changed into some clothes Jongdae gave him, they left the warehouse. The only sign that they had ever been there was the carving on the floor, angrily drawn from early vengeance and black promise. 

On the way, they took a taxi to be _covert_ , in Jongdae’s words. Normal, Jongin translated. Most people took taxis to the airport, so it would be better to blend in with non-assassins, with non-liars. 

“What if I can’t do it?” Jongin wondered in the taxi. Whispered. “What if I…” 

He gestured at his bracelet. It was green now, but when would it change? When would it shift back to red?” 

“Practice what I taught you,” Jongdae said, keeping an eye on the taxi driver who had checked his rearview mirror as he heard Jongin speak. 

“I’m…I’m here for business,” Jongin said. But the shakiness of his voice had caught hold, and his bracelet screamed red. The taxi driver stared from the rearview. 

“Oh my god,” Jongin harshly whispered, clamping a hand over his wrist. There was no way. Absolutely no way he could pull this off in front of an android.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Jongdae raised his voice, causing the taxi driver to hastily look back at the road. 

“Another thing,” Jongdae whispered to Jongin after glaring at the driver for a few more moments, “Repeat the lie until you believe it.” 

“How long will that take?” Jongin asked. They only had two hours until their flight, and— 

“For you?” Jongdae said, flattening the curls of his lips as he pressed his lips together for a second, “Better start now.” 

Jongin’s eyes widened, and he clasped his hands together as he started praying. 

“My name is Kim Jongin,” Jongin started frantically repeating, “and I’m here for business purposes. My name is Kim Jongin, and I’m here for business purposes. My name is Kim Jongin and I’m here for business purposes. My name is Kim Jongin…” 

For the rest of the ride, Jongin continued practicing, but his bracelet continued to fluctuate between green and red. There were many times the driver glanced at Jongin, cleared his throat, attempted to pull over, clearly uncomfortable with driving a liar. But Jongdae would clear his throat louder, shoot him a single look, and relax as the driver snapped his eyes forward and continued driving.  

As they reached the airport, the driver took off without accepting their payment, speeding off without another look back.

“Ready?” Jongdae said, hopping onto the pavement and hoisting his bag over his shoulder. 

“ _No_ ,” Jongin said, hiding behind Jongdae as travelers rushed past them, desperate to catch their flight, and androids stood guard, ready to detect any liars and fight. It was a terrible attempt at hiding because Jongdae was smaller than him, but Jongin did his best to scrunch down and make himself as small as possible. 

“Don’t even worry about it,” Jongdae said, guiding them forward. 

Jongin grasped onto Jongdae’s sleeve, feeling his heart pound so hard against his chest it could’ve punched its way out of his body. 

“My heart rate’s too fast,” Jongin whispered, not even caring that he was relying on Jongdae for emotional damage control, “I can’t…”

“You can,” Jongdae nodded, giving him a nod and a smile, “You’re with me, so you can.”

“If an android detains me, would you break me out?” Jongin asked, fingers curling tighter on Jongdae’s sleeve. 

Jongdae stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at Jongin as the front doors of the airport slid open.

“Yes. Of course I will,” he said so easily and effortlessly that Jongin wondered if it was a lie. But even if it was far from the truth, Jongin took that answer and stayed silent as they stepped inside.

As they waited in line, waiting to be processed and scanned, Jongin took deep breaths, trying to calm his heart and prepare himself. He peeked above Jongdae’s head, saw the androids guarding the area, and resisted the urge to duck behind Jongdae’s shoulders again. They looked human, so Jongin would pretend they were human. There was nothing to be afraid of. They were just humans. Yeah. Humans.

“I’ll go first and show you how it’s done,” Jongdae whispered as the line shortened and they were first.

He pulled Jongin’s hand away from his sleeve, nodded one last and stepped forward…no. _Sauntered_ forward. Jongin watched between his hands as Jongdae handed the android his passport. 

“State your name and reason for traveling,” the android said, their expression neutral.

“My name is Kim Jongdae, and I’m traveling for work,” Jongdae said, raising his bracelet to show the android the green light.

“Work?” the android said, tilting their head at a sharp angle, “Work. What do you do for work?” 

“I’m a musician,” Jongdae said, “A singer.” 

The android paused for a moment, staring at Jongdae’s bracelet. When the green refused to give way to red, the android handed Jongdae his passport and stiffly waved their hand.

“Have a nice flight. I hope your plane does not crash,” the android said, the corners of their lips stiffly rising. 

After Jongdae passed through, he waited a few feet away and beckoned for Jongin to follow. Jongin took one last, shuddering breath, squared his shoulders, and walked forward before he could change his mind and sprint in the opposite direction. For his father. He’d do this for his father.

“State your name and your reason or traveling,” the android said, dropping the smile from their face as quickly as Jongin’s heart dropped as soon as he heard the android address him.

Jongin swallowed, looking beside him at Jongdae for guidance. After Jongdae gave him and encouraging nod, Jongdae cleared his throat with a cough, handed the android his passport, and spoke. 

“My name is Kim Jongin, and I’m here for business,” Jongin said, holding his breath as he raised his wrist in the air. He waited for the light to turn red, for all the androids to tackle him to the floor and detain him. But after a few seconds, Jongin let out a long exhale after the bracelet remained green. 

“What type of business?” the android asked. 

Jongin clutched the edge of the counter, clearing his throat to waste time. He was only half-prepared to answer the first question. Not this one. Not any other one. 

“Work,” Jongin stammered, “It’s work.” 

“What type of work?” the android asked, “Specify.” 

Jongin opened his mouth, but nothing sounded. What could he say? Working with an assassin? Trying to break into another government facility? Stealing restricted data? 

“What. Type. Of. Work?” the android repeated, eyes beginning to flash red.

Before Jongin could say something he’d regret, Jongdae hurried beside him and smoothly took over. 

“He’s my manager,” Jongdae said, lifting his wrist to the counter, “Androids make him nervous, so I’m sorry he didn’t respond well to your questions.” 

“I see that is the truth. Thank you. You may proceed,” the android said, the light fading from their eyes. 

Jongdae grabbed Jongin’s arm and pulled him forwards, briskly walking in silence towards their terminal. Along the way, Jongin’s gaze wandered around the airport, staring into the lens of the thousands of cameras they passed. Didn’t they have facial recognition? Didn’t they know that Jongdae was here?

Jongin didn’t trust himself to speak until they found their seats on the plane. Jongdae insisted on taking the aisle seat, and after everything that had happened, Jongin would’ve gladly pushed a passenger out of the way to give Jongdae any aisle seat he wanted.

“Wasn’t that fun?” Jongdae said, reaching into his bag to pull out his blanket.

“I could’ve died,” Jongin blinked, not able to process how he had exactly survived.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jongdae said, draping the knitted blanket over his shoulders, “I would’ve killed them before that happened.”

“I’m sure your parents must be so proud of you,” Jongin said, leaning on the window as he blankly stared at the screen in front of him. Another android was explaining what to do if the plane exploded. Great.

“Don’t have any,” Jongdae said, grabbing a neck rest from an android flight attendant. 

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Jongin said, not knowing what else to say.

Jongdae shrugged. 

“I guess you still have your mom, right? If you’re only asking me for information about your dad?” Jongdae asked, shoving the neck rest behind his head. 

“Yeah,” Jongin nodded, “I have to call her soon or she’ll worry.” 

“How sweet of her,” Jongdae said in such a deadpan tone Jongin didn’t know if he cared at all. 

“My sisters don’t live at home either, so she’s all alone,” Jongin said, “thanks to that assassin that killed my dad.” 

“Sisters?” Jongdae asked, his eyes beginning to flutter. 

“Half,” Jongin said, his attention half taken by a couple and their baby trying to squeeze past them. Jongdae leaned over and waved enthusiastically at the baby who giggled and reached out to touch Jongdae’s hair.  “We don’t have the same dad.”

“Ah,” Jongdae said, turning around to stare at the baby for a moment more before letting out a loud yawn. “What’s your dad like anyways? If you’re willing to do all of this for him, then he must’ve been great.” 

“I…I don’t remember if I’m honest,” Jongin found himself saying, “He died when I was young, and he was almost always working. But I remember he always lifted me in the air when he came home. And on Sundays, he brought me ice cream.”

“Ice cream,” Jongdae said, letting out a small chuckle. 

“Yeah. It was vanilla with raspberry syrup. The kind you buy at the corner store and quickly devour before your fingers get sticky,” Jongin smiled.

He trailed off, realizing that was it. That was really all he remembered about his father because he was absent now when he was alive, absent now because he was dead. But his mother had always said he worked hard to support their family, so he couldn’t blame him for missing his first ballet recital, his first missing tooth, his first steps. His first and second and third everythings.

Jongin let out a sigh and shook the past from his mind.

“What was your dad like, Jongdae?” he asked.

When he received no response, he looked beside him to find Jongdae’s eyes closed. He watched him for a moment before grabbing a blanket from a passing android and closing his eyes, too.

He quickly fell asleep, missing takeoff, missing the beverage cart, and missing Jongdae standing up every so often during the flight to walk around. But he wished he could have missed the landing because after Jongdae gently awoke him and pointed out the window, Jongin very seriously debated knocking himself unconscious all over again.

“I hope you’re ready to get off this plane. Facial recognition’s probably set off all their alarms, so look who they sent to greet us,” Jongdae said, pointing at the window.

Jongin didn’t want to take a second look and slid down his seat, wanting to hide after seeing at least fifty androids holding large guns surrounding the plane.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“You had the space and time to run when we came for you at the airport,” the Director said, pushing the lamp above Jongin’s head, watching it swing back and forth.

Jongin blinked and looked downwards, the shadows around him dancing as the light continued to teeter back and forth. If he was not bound by the iron cage around his chest, he would have placed a hand over his face so he could look the Director in the eyes while speaking.

“We attacked Kim Jongdae at the terminal,” the Director said. Jongin watched his feet pace back and forth the spotless floor until they stopped right beside him. “While he was trading fire with us, you could’ve run to safety. But why didn’t you?”

Jongin paused. This was where everything would collapse if he was not careful.

He could answer work and hope his bracelet stayed green.

He could answer business and hope it wouldn’t turn red.

But the Director would continue to ask more specific questions no matter what he answered now, so Jongin answered whatever he wanted, however he liked anyways.

“He promised me information when we were together,” Jongin said, mindful of his wording. He glanced at the monitor to confirm it was still green before continuing. “Information I wanted and needed.”

“Information about what?” the Director said.

“My father’s death,” he said.

“So you trusted him?” the Director said.

Jongin gritted his teeth and shook his head. 

“Verbal answers only, Jongin,” the Director said, pushing his shoulder. Jongin shot him a glare before looking away.

“No,” Jongin muttered a little softer, “I don’t trust killers.” 

That was one of the reasons why he had devoted his career to A.S.S. after all. Why he had worked with Yixing to hunt down all the assassins they could find. 

“Then why did you work with one?” the Director said, pushing Jongin’s shoulder again. Jongin resisted the urge to swear at the Director because that wouldn’t help his case at all. “You’ll have to take responsibility for the events that transpired there.” 

But it had been two years, and Jongin had managed to talk his way out of accepting responsibility for that incident every single time. He wasn’t going to break that streak now, wasn’t going to kill that luck now.

“No,” Jongin shook his head. His bracelet remained green, but his heart slightly picked up speed. “What happened at the airport that day was not my fault.”

“Security cam footage suggest otherwise,” the Director said, tapping a finger on the table beside him. 

“Do I look like I’m lying?” Jongin said, meeting the Director’s eyes. Here, it was do or die.

“Explain your behavior,” the Director said, “and don’t leave anything out. We will know if you lie. We always do.”

“I had to gain Jongdae’s trust somehow,” Jongin easily said, never looking away from the Director’s cold, unblinking gaze, “in order to take him down and bring him in when he least expected. Staying calm and helping him was how I did it.” 

Not once did the monitor ever shy away from a bold, unblinking green.

 

 

ϟ

 

 

Back at the airport, Jongdae pressed a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t be tempted to let out a long, long scream. 

“Knock me out…Just _do it_. Pull the trigger, Jongdae,” Jongin gripped Jongdae’s arm and shook it, “I don’t want to be conscious for this. Why did you wake me up?” 

“ _Relax,_ ” Jongdae said in such a way that caused Jongin to do the exact opposite. “I thought you were supposed to be tougher since you worked as a field agent for A.S.S. hunting people like me.”

“I _am_ ,” Jongin insisted as loudly as he dared, “but I’ve always been on _their_ side. I’ve seen how they operate, and you never want to be the ones they’re shooting at.” 

It was easier to be brave when he knew androids were stationed around the perimeter as his backup. Not when he was alone with one single assassin with fifty guns pointed at him. 

“Well lucky for you,” Jongdae said as he tapped his bracelet to check the time, “You never want to be the one I’m shooting at, and you’re on my side this time. So you have nothing to fear.” 

“There are probably hundreds waiting inside,” Jongdae said instead, recalling his training and basic A.S.S. procedure, “Both androids and human agents. The androids won’t draw much attention since they’re there as airport security. But the humans will be blending with the civilians.” 

“Am I supposed to be scared of that?” Jongdae asked as he leaned out of the aisle and looked behind him. 

Jongdae gestured helplessly at the windows. The _guns_. The _androids_. Honestly, he should’ve listened to his first instinct and applied to the tech or research department at A.S.S. He shouldn’t have let Yixing foolishly convince him that he had a career in field work. 

“You think this is my first time trying to catch a flight without dying?” Jongdae laughed, “Like I said. Relax. I have a plan.” 

“Then what’s the _plan_ ,” Jongin hissed, “If you don’t have a plan, then that means we’re f—” 

“Shut up and give it thirty seconds,” Jongdae said, checking the time again. After watching the holographic seconds tick by for a moment, Jongdae looked behind him again. 

Jongin slammed the plane’s window down to avoid looking death straight in the face and pressed his lips together to stop himself from rambling. When he used to go on missions with Yixing, he kept all his screaming inside his head, afraid of looking like a baby in front of calm, composed Yixing. But now it seemed all the rookie panic and terrified adrenaline he had repressed with Yixing was all spilling out now with Jongdae. 

Who was absolutely not a good partner to work with. 

In theory. 

After thirty seconds passed, a measure of time that felt more like a year, people started gasping a few rows behind them. Jongin dared to peek over the top of his chair and saw three people slumped over. One had fallen onto the floor, limp limbs blocking the aisle. 

Jongin quickly sat down and pretended he hadn’t seen anything. 

“What did you _do_?” Jongin whispered to Jongdae, “Oh my god…did you _kill_ them?” 

“It’s only a strong sleeping pill,” Jongdae said, looking unbothered as he neatly folded his blanket, making sure the edges aligned, “…that makes it seem as if they have no pulse.” 

Jongin rubbed his face, and for the thousandth time, wished he had just called the police when he’d first saw Jongdae.

“Now we wait a few minutes,” Jongdae said, stowing the blanket safely in his bag. Around them, android attendants rushed towards the back of the plane to assist the three passengers. “They’ll call the paramedics who have an average response time of a few minutes. So we wait.” 

They waited in silence, Jongin fidgeting and occasionally pulling open the window a crack to check if the androids were still there. They were. When Jongdae determined it was long enough, he stood and grabbed his bag from the overhead compartment, gesturing for Jongin to do the same.

The androids, busy with the sick passengers, never noticed 

Jongdae beckoned at Jongin to hurry and follow him and briskly walked through the aisles. If Jongin had the emotional capacity to do so, he would’ve laughed at how they were able to so easily slip past everyone without even a single look. 

When they reached the walkway, Jongdae stopped, holding up a hand as he peeked out for a moment before pressing his back to the wall. 

“Now what?” Jongin asked, mirroring Jongdae’s movement.   

“Paramedics,” Jongdae said, “Six incoming. Follow me.” 

Sure enough, six paramedics rushed past them, two each pulling one stretcher along with them down the hallway. Three stretchers for each of the people who collapsed. Jongdae let two stretchers pass before he grabbed the last paramedic.   

“Oh my _god_ ,” Jongdae hysterically said, raising his voice, “You _have_ to help them…It…it was so terrible; all of those people just collapsed, and I…” 

“Please calm down, sir. We’re here to help. Don’t worry,” the paramedic said, lowering down his guard to reach for Jongdae’s shoulder to comfort him. His mistake. Jongdae grabbed the paramedic’s arm, yanked it downwards, and seized the paramedic’s head before slamming it into his knee. While that paramedic groaned and curled up onto the floor clutching his bleeding nose, Jongdae leaped onto the stretcher and knocked out the other paramedic before Jongin could even blink.

“You coming or what?” Jongdae said, “Grab one of their uniforms.” He then fumbled around the paramedic’s bag, threw a blanket over his body, and placed an oxygen mask over his mouth. 

Jongin decided that if he were going to steal a uniform, he’d steal a clean, uniform without any blood stains. Gingerly, he ripped open the unconscious paramedic’s shirt and threw it over himself. His fingers were trembling too much to button up his shirt properly. 

“ _God,_ just let me do it,” Jongdae said, lifting the oxygen mask from his face to speak. Jongin obeyed and stepped closer. Jongdae’s nimble fingers worked swiftly, and within seconds, Jongin was properly dressed as the paramedic wheeling out a collapsed passenger. 

“Don’t stop pushing no matter what happens,” Jongdae ordered as Jongin slowly pushed them towards the entrance of the walkway, “Don’t stop for anyone, and when I say switch, start pulling instead of pushing. You’ll know when to start running.” 

Jongin nodded. 

“You’ll tell me what I want to know after we finish everything, right?” Jongin asked, looking down at Jongdae for confirmation. 

“Yeah, I’ll ask them to give you the file on it and everything,” Jongdae said, reaching up to pat Jongin’s cheek with a smile. Before Jongin had a chance to question Jongdae why there was a file, Jongdae repositioned the oxygen mask over his face and laid down and played dead. Or at least near dead.  

As if a man like this could seem dead even for a moment. 

When Jongin entered the airport, he dared to look around him despite his better judgement. Sure enough, he saw concealed guns, more androids than usual, humans talking covertly on their comms. It wasn’t as covert as they would’ve liked, or at least to Jongin and his previous training. Holding his break, Jongin focused on pushing the stretcher forwards, placing more distance between them and the agents watching the plane. Jongdae cracked an eye open, waiting for a sign of trouble.

Jongin held his breath, feeling their eyes on him. Jongdae, too, cracked an eye open, waiting for a sign of trouble. 

Then, time died. 

As the other paramedics burst out of the walkway, yelling and waving their hands, the seconds collided into each other until every passing moment blurred. As if everything were in slow motion, Jongin looked behind him saw the agents pulling out their guns, the androids snapping their necks to scan the crowd for them, the red, flashing lights that screeched in alarm.   

Jongdae shouted _now_ , and Jongin acted without thinking. It was incredible, how they managed to squeeze so many things a second. Jongin shoving the bed ahead before racing forwards and beginning to pull instead of push. Jongdae ripping the oxygen mask and the blanket off to reveal a gun that fired instantly. Jongin didn’t have time to wonder exactly when Jongdae had managed to smuggle a gun into the airport, too busy looking behind him to navigate through the screaming crowd. Looking backwards was easier than looking forwards after all. 

After the crowd parted, clearing the space ahead for them, Jongin dared to look forwards and realized he shouldn’t have. Oh, he shouldn’t have. The agents and androids had returned fire, but after all the distance Jongin had placed between them, not a single bullet had come close to even grazing their skin. Civilians screamed and dropped to the floor with their hands on their heads. Some bodies were already slumped on the ground, blood already pooling around the once stainless floor. 

Jongin did his best to breathe, pulling them behind a row of columns, weaving them in and out to give them coverage as the agents pursued. Bullets peppered the marble columns, sending debris and dust into the air. 

“What now?” Jongin asked, the sight of the rapidly approaching androids and agents sending his heart racing for all the wrong reasons, “There’s too many.” 

“You sure about that?” Jongdae shouted as he fired his gun three more times. With careful aim, three more agents fell. 

“Yes,” Jongin said, looking to his right and finding another group of agents heading towards them, guns raised. “Absolutely. Yes.” 

Years of being told off for swearing by his mother was the only thing that saved Jongin from letting out a long, well justified _f—_

“New plan,” Jongdae said, hopping off of the stretcher. After shouldering his bag, Jongdae overturned the stretcher and dragged Jongin behind it just in time as bullets flew towards them, using it as a makeshift shield as bullets flew towards them. After returning some fire, Jongdae pulled out a gun from his bag and thrust it towards Jongin. 

“I can’t shoot at them,” Jongin said, holding his hands up to refuse the gun, “I work with them.” 

“Clearly they don’t feel the same. So shoot or die,” Jongdae said, shoving the gun at Jongin’s chest. 

“They wouldn’t shoot me,” Jongin insisted as they ran, dragging the upended stretcher behind them. He swore he felt a bullet whiz past his ear. At this point, considering the amount of agents and androids pursuing them, it was a miracle they hadn’t been shot yet. 

“Come _on_ , Jongin,” Jongdae shouted, shooting behind him, “Do you want to die in a fucking _airport_? I mean…there’s worse places to die but what the _fuck_ just start _shooting._ I can’t tell you who killed your dad if someone murders you in the next few seconds.”

Gritting his teeth, Jongin raised his gun, and conceded. But unlike Jongdae, Jongin aimed for nonfatal targets, preferring to shoot arms and legs instead of heads and hearts. Bodies fell, but it wasn’t enough. There was too many of them. 

“Reach into my bag and pull out a flash bomb,” Jongdae said, turning around for Jongin.

“How the _hell_ did you smuggle all this into the airport?” Jongin said right when three bullets slammed into the stretcher three inches from his head. 

“Shut up and set it off,” Jongdae shouted, clicking his gun before realizing it was empty. 

Jongin considered the list of long crimes that’d stain his record, the punishments he’d be subjected to, and the disappointment from his mother before he threw everything away. He reached into Jongdae’s bag, hoping the smooth, cylindrical thing he felt was the right bomb. Without hesitating for a second more, he set the bomb off and threw it as far as he could. When it exploded, sending a puff of smoke scattering around the space, Jongdae dropped the stretcher and sprinted ahead, gesturing at Jongin to do the same. 

The diversion the bomb caused had given them enough time to race through the airport without any trouble. But just as they were about to enter baggage claim, Jongin saw a figure with a raised gun that made him slow down and skid to a stop. 

“Yixing?” Jongin asked. Jongdae aimed at Yixing, ready to pull the trigger at any moment. 

“Jongin?” Yixing said, his eyes widening when they were close enough to see the wrinkles on each other’s faces, the wrinkles on each other’s hearts, “Oh my god…I’m so glad you’re alive. Step away from him. I’ve got this.” 

He shifted his attention to Jongdae and spoke clearly. 

“Kim Jongdae, you’re under arrest. I’m taking you into—” 

“Fuck that,” Jongdae said, firing three shots at Yixing’s chest. Jongin screamed as he watched Yixing’s body slam into the column behind him. 

“ _Yixing,”_ Jongin shouted, attempting to run towards him before Jongdae reached out a hand to stop him. 

“Your father or him,” Jongdae said, the playfulness of his tone dead for a moment as he stared seriously at Jongin. 

Jongin said nothing, bit his lip, and watched between fingers as Yixing groaned and pulled himself upwards. A.S.S. agents were require to wear bulletproof vests, but that didn’t mean Yixing wouldn’t be sporting fresh bruises from this confrontation for the next week. 

“Don’t kill him,” Jongin pleaded, attempting to pull Jongdae’s arm down, “Let’s look for a way out.”

“He said he was going to kill Sehun,” Jongdae slowly said, keeping his gun raised at Yixing, “So I’ll kill him right here.” 

“ _Don’t_ ,” Jongin said. It seemed the only way to grab Jongdae’s attention was through dramatic gestures and big words, so Jongin finally put his gun to good use and pressed it against Jongdae’s head. 

Jongdae laughed, shook his head, and only continued shooting at Yixing, who’d pulled himself behind a column to take cover. 

“You wouldn’t,” Jongdae sneered, not even sparing Jongin’s gun a glance, “You want the truth too much for that.” 

“You want to see Sehun too much to let me pull this trigger,” Jongin bet. The trigger felt terrible against his finger, and Jongin breathed, wondering what would happen if he put a bullet through Jongdae’s head right now.   

“You’re too scared to pull it,” Jongdae said, stepping aside to hide behind a column before shooting five times at Yixing, “I look at you and know you haven’t even shot someone living before.” 

“Jongin,” Yixing shouted a few meters way, “Step away from him. Come back here and go home.”

“Can’t,” Jongin responded, feeling his arm slacken as he realized. Jongdae was right. Jongin had never pulled the trigger with the intent of killing someone, and he wouldn’t start now.   

“You can’t get hurt again,” Yixing shouted from behind the column, Jongdae’s gunfire too strong to fight. 

“Hey,” Jongin shouted, finally dropping the gun to protest, “I’m stronger than you think. I chose to take that bullet because I knew I’d be able to recover. So shut up and stop thinking a bullet can stop me, anything can stop me at all.” 

“I never said you were weak,” Yixing shouted back. Beside Jongin, Jongdae only rolled his eyes and continued shooting. 

“Then why did you push me away? Tell me that you couldn’t work with me anymore? Transferred me to a desk job in a different department?” Jongin asked, flinching at the chaos beside him, the mess in front of him. 

“ _Becaus_ e,” Yixing said. 

“Because _what_?” Jongin said, half tempted to hold Yixing at gunpoint until he answered. 

“I didn’t want to lose you,” Yixing shouted, his voice cracking, straining to be heard above the cacophony. 

Jongin stared for a moment, blinking, ignoring the bullets that whizzed around him, the blaring alarms that flooded the space with tainted red light, the androids that were on the verge of meeting them.

And then laughed. 

Of all the ways to explain Yixing’s behavior, Jongin’s heart had preferred this explanation the most. If only he’d told him sooner. If only. 

Jongdae’s gun clicked, signaling he had run out of bullets already. He looked behind him, finding androids closing in, agents rushing in front of them. Silently, Jongdae picked up two flash bombs, handing one to Jongin as he tilted his head towards Yixing. Jongin nodded and tossed the bomb in his hand to test its weight. 

“That’s so funny, Yixing,” Jongin said, triggering the bomb and throwing it past Yixing and towards the agents that were about to shoot. Behind them, the androids were lost in a swirl of sudden smoke thanks to the bomb Jongdae threw. In the midst of the haze, the alarms, the confusion, Jongdae grabbed Jongin’s arm and ran. Jongin couldn’t see Yixing as they waded through the clouds, but he shouted one last thing before they escaped. 

“You’ve already lost me.” 

The red light of his bracelet guided them through the fog, and once they clawed their way outside, Jongin ripped off the paramedics uniform, took the baseball cap Jongdae passed him, and jammed it on his head. The both of them disappeared into the crowd, chin down, hands shoved in their pockets, tricking any android and human around them that there was nothing suspicious about them, no. They weren’t liars, no. Not at all. Just honest, decent civilians. 

After hitching a ride from a taxi, Jongin found himself in the inner sector of the city. The further they walked, the grimier the streets became. At least there were less androids around these narrow streets and dark alleyways. 

“You have a lot of issues you need to work through,” Jongdae said, kicking a loose stone as they continued walking down the path. 

Normally, Jongin would’ve never dared to walk into such gritty parts of the city, but since Jongdae was here by his side, he feared a sudden stab in his back more than any android or shady person approaching them. 

“So do you. I’m not special,” Jongin muttered, tugging his hat down to cover more of his face. 

“Fair…But I don’t have any relationship problems at all. You’ve got as many relationship problems as I have scars,” Jongdae said, leading the way through a dimly lit alleyway. After Jongin hesitated, Jongdae beckoned him forwards with a flick of his wrist.

“It’s just complicated,” Jongin said, taking a step forwards. Deep, jagged lines ran through the cracked pavement, splitting the ground into fragments. Jongin hopped over each fragment like he was four again, playing hopscotch inside with his sisters again. 

“Really,” Jongdae said, waiting for him to catch up. 

“No,” Jongin corrected himself with a single shake of his head. He stopped in front of Jongdae but couldn’t meet his gaze. “No, it’s not. We broke up.” 

“He dumped you,” Jongdae said, clucking his tongue as he draped an arm over Jongin’s shoulder and helped him forwards. 

“For my own safety,” Jongin said, easily stepping over another crack. Jongdae stumbled over the pavement, and despite himself, Jongin reached out to steady him. 

“Weak,” Jongdae said, pushing at the metal fence at the end of the alleyway. After a firm shove, it slid to the side revealing another pathway. He climbed in first, the green light of his bracelet illuminating the darkness.

“If you both really loved each other, you wouldn’t let anything separate you,” Jongdae’s voice echoed in the darkness, “And didn’t you say you saved his life? What the fuck type of dumbass leaves after that?”

Jongin stared at the darkness, watching Jongdae’s light float farther and farther away. 

“We were on a mission. An assassin shot at us, and I took a bullet meant for him,” Jongin shouted into the abyss, his voice echoing in the darkness. He took a shaky breath, touched his abdomen, and remembered the scar that snaked around his body. Jongdae’s light had stopped at the end of the tunnel, looking like a tiny green star. 

Jongin stepped into the tunnel, spreading his arms around to feel his way towards Jongdae. He’d never talked about this with anyone, but it felt good, to shout into the abyss and smother his secrets in inky light. 

“Then when I wake up from surgery, he stays long enough to make sure I’m not in danger of dying. And then he tells me we can’t be together because it’s too dangerous,” Jongin said, hating how his voice suddenly cracked. In a softer voice, he continued to speak. “That I’d do it again. That I’d save him again and lose myself to death for good.”

And the thing was, though, that he’d do it again. He’d really do it again. Jongin would stop any bullet for Yixing, catch any swinging knife in his hands before they could hurt Yixing. Not that he’d have a chance in the future, given this separation. 

At the end of the tunnel, Jongdae fumbled around, using the light of his bracelet to illuminate the space until he found a doorknob and twisted it open. Light immediately raced into the darkness, and Jongin raised a hand up to shield his eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden brightness.   

As Jongdae slammed the door behind him, he let out a laugh, throwing his head back as he clapped his hands.

“That’s _so_ funny,’” Jongdae said after he’d calmed down enough to speak. He ambled forwards, expecting Jongin to follow as he entered another street filled with red, neon lights hanging outside business fronts. They passed by tattoo parlors, smoky bars, and other shady establishments filed with lovers and liars. 

“What the f—,”Jongin was about to say before he caught himself, “I mean…why do you find that so funny. He loved me and left.” 

“I mean,” Jongdae said, throwing a hand in the air, “Can’t he see you’re living right now? You told death to fuck off because you weren’t done living, weren’t done loving your man.”

“He’s not my man anymore,” Jongin muttered. Beside them, two people were conversing outside of a bar, both sporting red bracelets. Neither seemed concerned, allowing each other to speak without calling the androids or fleeing in terror. 

“That’s what you both think. But clearly he sent you away because he cares too much about you. And clearly any attempt you made to convince him to stay failed,” Jongdae said. 

Jongin wasn’t sure where they were going, but he occasionally looked behind him to make sure that they hadn’t been followed. That any androids hadn’t followed them from the airport.   

"It's hard," Jongin said, "He's stubborn." 

"So be stubborner," Jongdae said. He nodded in greeting as they passed by a young woman with piercings and offered her a fist bump. She grinned and clapped Jongdae on the shoulder as she passed by. Jongdae really would know everyone around here wouldn’t he.

"I'm not taking relationship advice from a killer," Jongin said. If he did, he’d have to accept that this was his reality. This was how far he’d sunk. How far he’d fallen. "You've killed more people than you love, and no  matter how big your heart is, it won’t ever be large enough to hide the others you’ve hurt. 

"That's true," Jongdae shrugged, not even attempting to argue or protest, "I've only ever loved two people in my whole life. Maybe three. Sehun's the only one that matters anymore."

"Can we talk about him instead?" Jongin asked, "I don't want to talk about Yixing anymore. Like I said, we're done. And he's probably going to arrest me after everything's over. He saw me at the airport helping you escape.” 

"Just say you were acting under duress and blackmail. Extortion. I don't know…say whatever and blame me any way you want to save yourself," Jongdae said, waving his concerns away. 

Before Jongin could even respond, even consider what had been said, Jongdae changed the subject. 

"But you're right," Jongdae said, hopping over a rock and landing with both feet on the ground. He spread out his arms and raised his voice. "Let's talk about my _man_. My _husband_. The fucking _love of my life_." 

"Knock yourself out," Jongin muttered. He’d gladly let Jongdae chatter endlessly while he contemplated his situation in silence and figured out what to do from here. He looked behind him again, feeling as if they were being watched. But there was no one behind him, not even a single android. And in these parts of the city, no one dared to even hang a single surveillance camera, probably all scared of what the government might see. 

“Sehun,” Jongdae started as they continued to walk through these shady streets, “drums in our band.” 

“Your band,” Jongin said, admiring how far Jongdae would go just to cover the lies he had told before. 

“Yeah,” Jongdae said, “Our band rotates depending on who’s available for a gig, but it’s always him and me at the center. It’s always been him and me, really. I wouldn't be happy at all if I had to live a life like this without him.” 

“Really,” Jongin said. It was impossible to tune Jongdae out, and he found himself listening attentively and carefully to everything Jongdae said. 

“He keeps me happy,” Jongdae sighed, reaching up to touch a hanging sign, the force sending it swinging. “He's the reason why I do every the job efficiently, why I hurry home instead of dragging my feet on the streets, wherever home may be for the moment. He's the reason why I'm doing all of this, after all.” 

“Then why didn’t you do this job together?” Jongin asked. 

Jongdae fell silent, and Jongin could almost hear Jongdae think of how to word his response, how to formulate his lie. But even if he was lying, Jongin didn’t care. Sometime lies were more entertaining than the truth. 

“Sehun actually wanted to work this job together,” Jongdae admitted, “But it was too risky, so I wouldn’t let him come.” 

“So you involved me instead. I see,” Jongin said, “I see how it is.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Jongdae laughed, shoving Jongin’s shoulder, “But anyways…Sehun’s off on his own doing a few last jobs to boost our funds a little more. He’s securing our finances, and I’m setting our retirement plan into motion.” 

Jongin stared hard at the man approaching them, wondering if it was an android in disguise. If he wanted to escape this situation with the secret he wanted and the life he needed, then he’d have to play both sides, winning Jongdae’s trust enough to steal the secret before handing him into the Director. But Jongdae was too good, too smart, and he’d absolutely see any sketchy plan Jongin was making years and years ahead of time. 

So how would he do it? 

Escape with everything he wanted? 

Jongin had absolutely no idea for now, but letting Jongdae talk while he continued to think seemed like the appropriate step to take. 

“So what’s the retirement plan? Where are you going to settle down?” Jongin asked. 

“Somewhere warm. Somewhere beautiful. Somewhere that’d be good for raising a family,” Jongdae said, his lips curling up higher. 

“Like?” Jongin asked again. 

“I’m not telling you,” Jongdae shook his head, “You’d probably tell them when you finish this job.” 

“I wouldn’t,” Jongin said. 

His bracelet beeped. 

Jongdae laughed. 

“See?” he said. 

"Where are we going now?" Jongin said, trying to shift the attention off of his lie. 

“A safe house,” Jongdae said, waving at another person they walked past. “I need to collect some guns, ammo, and we’re going to need tech support if we’re busting into your building. I’m sure they’ve tripled security, so it’d be tricky getting in without help.” 

“Does every city have a safe house for assassins?” Jongin asked. If he had a pen, he would’ve written down everything Jongdae was saying. 

“Yeah,” Jongdae nodded, making a left turn at a flickering lamp post with worn stickers slapped onto its metal surface. “Every major city has at least one safe house for us, but don’t bother trying to find any of them. We’re too good to be found. And if you ever think you’ve managed to find us, we’ll only move.” 

At last he stopped in front of a raggedy building with boarded up windows and chipped gray paint. 

“If you’re all rich killers dripping in money,” Jongin said, staring up at the building, “Then why couldn’t you afford something that looks better than this old thing?” 

“Step behind me,” Jongdae said instead, “Let me handle this.” 

Jongdae knocked three times on the door, and while they waited in silence for someone to answer, Jongin wasn’t ashamed to admit he drew back and hid behind Jongdae’s shoulders. He was expecting a giant, burly person with arms bigger than Jongin’s head to answer before the door opened, revealing a tiny young woman pointing a gun straight at them.   

But when she saw Jongdae, she lowered it. 

“What’s up, Joohyun,” Jongdae grinned, “How are you?” 

“Jongdae,” Joohyun smiled, adjusting her glasses, “I saw you coming from the cameras. It’s been forever.” 

“Three months is not forever,” Jongdae said, reaching out to hug her tightly. 

“It is to me,” Joohyun said, her smile dimming for a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” Jongdae said, rubbing her back. 

Joohyun shook her head and drew her attention to Jongin instead. 

“Who’s your friend? Should I do a background check?” Joohyun said, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she looked Jongin up and down. 

“Be nice. I trust him,” Jongdae said. 

Jongin’s throat tightened as he checked Jongdae’s wrist and saw only green. Lie. It was absolutely a lie. There was no way that could be the truth. 

“Okay,” Joohyun said after a pause, “Then come inside. And don’t touch anything.” 

Jongdae pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. Jongin followed, trying hard not to stare. The inside, with its sleek walls and modern light structures, looked nothing like its shabby outside. A rack of guns of all different sizes stood in the right corner. Loose bullets lay scattered on the tables around the space, and various other weapons hung from the ceilings. At least ten computer monitors were set up around the left corner. If a house like this existed in every major city, then it was a miracle the agents at A.S.S. had any luck tracking down any of their targets at all. 

“So what do you need? Are we toppling a government this time? Snapping the necks of a dirty politician?” Joohyun asked, hopping onto a tall stool. She drummed her nails on the metal table, unable to fully suppress the smile on her face that mirrored Jongdae’s own, wide grin. Jongdae was a liar…not that Jongin ever thought the opposite. It was clear he cared about more than one person. 

“Sehun and I are retiring,” Jongdae said, “So we’re tying up a few loose ends here and there. And one of those loose ends involves breaking into the A.S.S. branch in this city.” 

“Retiring?” Joohyun said, the smile sliding off her face. Her fingers, slackened, the rhythmic beats nothing but a long fermata. “But I’ve already lost…” 

She dropped her gaze and curled up her fingers into a fist. 

“Hey,” Jongdae said, rushing to squeeze her shoulder, “We’ll keep in touch. Don’t worry.” 

“I wish I had the foresight to be able to recognize when it was a good time to retire. Then maybe…you know,” Joohyun trailed off. 

Jongdae reached out to take her hand and squeezed it. 

"I'm sorry again," he said, "And I'll destroy as many A.S.S agents I find when I'm in their building." 

Joohyun finally met his gaze and let out a small chuckle. 

"Thank you, Jongdae," Joohyun nodded, "She would've liked that. All that revenge nonsense…An eye for an eye." 

“A heart for a heart,” Jongdae promised, “It’s only fair.” 

Jongin had only met the A.S.S. agents in this branch around annual conferences, but he was still tempted to call all of them and warn them to call in sick, to take a break, to hide in their break room on the day Jongdae wanted to bust through the front doors. 

“So. A.S.S. trouble?” Joohyun said after brushing at her cheeks.

“You know it,” Jongdae said, “I hit up the other branch with Jongin’s help and managed to destroy everything they have on Sehun. But they still have me. Everything about me is compressed into a little back up drive the Director’s carrying with him.”

Joohyun hummed a short tune, considering what Jongdae said before finally responding. 

“Does the Director really have it on him? He’ll be surrounded by hundreds of the worst of the worst agents and androids inside,” she said at last, “It’d be dangerous. Risky…even for you.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jongdae shrugged, “Jongin and I can handle it” 

“Right. Jongin…” Joohyun said, casting another sideways glance at Jongin, who squirmed under her sharp gaze. 

Without saying anything more, Joohyun brushed the bullets on the table aside, sending them clashing and clanking on the floor. She then tapped the surface of the table twice, causing a screen embedded into the table to switch on. After a few moments of typing something onto the keyboard, she projected a three-dimensional model of a building. 

“Here’s a model of the building,” Joohyun said, pinching the air around the hologram to turn it around. “This branch doesn’t focus on A.S.S. activities, so—” 

“The security will be laxer?” Jongin offered, “So we…” 

Joohyun shut him up with a single glare. 

“Of course not,” she said, “This branch specializes in android production and maintenance, so you’ll face more androids than humans.” 

“Great,” Jongin said. He’d rather face humans than androids any day. Of course androids physically looked like humans, but there was something in their eyes, something in their stiff tone of voice, that always made Jongin uncomfortable. “So what’s the plan now?” 

“Firstly, we need facial recognition to stop working as soon as we step anywhere near that building. Or we’ll have to fight our way in,” Jongdae said, taking off his leather jacket to reveal another tank top underneath. Jongin stared at the tattoos around Jongdae’s big biceps before refocusing on the model in front of them. 

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll take care of it,” Joohyun said before double tapping on a few sections of the blueprint, leaving little blinking dots behind. “There are guards stationed there and there…and there. Ten on each floor.” 

"There's got to be more after the stunt Jongdae pulled in the main branch… especially if the Director's trying to do a system restore on all the files they have," Jongin said. Based on A.S.S. protocol, the number of agents positioned at these access points seemed right, but after a catastrophic event such as the arrival of an assassin, there was no way to accurately predict how many more guards would be stationed. 

"What did you do?" Joohyun asked. 

"Blew up A.S.S' main headquarters," Jongdae said, raising a finger with every crime he added, "Corrupted their system with a virus. Took out a couple of them myself. Destroyed the flash drive they have on Sehun." 

" _Good_ ," Joohyun forcefully said, balling up her hands into a fist, "Did you kill the one who killed...." 

She couldn’t finish speaking and squeezed her eyes shut.  

"No," Jongdae said, "But he said he was going to kill Sehun, so...consider it done."

He raised a hand in the air, formed a gun, and flicked his wrist up and whispered a sharp _bang!_ Jongin cleared his throat, knowing exactly who they were referring to. 

“I’m going to get some drinks or something to eat. Do you want anything?” Jongin asked, wringing his hands together. 

“I’ll go with you,” Jongdae said, hopping off the stool, “Since you don’t know your way back.” 

"I'll be fine," Jongin said, taking a deep breath of air, "I just...need some air. Okay?" 

Jongdae paused, studying his expression for a moment before nodding. 

"If you're not back here in one hour, then I'll wait," Jongdae said, "But if you're not back in two, I'll have to assume you've left, Jongin." 

Jongin wasn’t foolish enough to leave right now, right when he was so close to getting what he wanted. And especially since he knew what Jongdae would do to him.

"I won't. You still have something that I need," Jongin said, "Trust that." 

Jongdae’s gaze flicked towards Jongin’s bracelet before he nodded. 

"Okay," Jongdae said, bending down to pick up some bullets. Carefully, he reloaded his gun and handed it to Jongin. "Be careful. They probably think you're with me now, so they won't hesitate to shoot.” 

Then he hesitated, drawing the gun back right when Jongin was reaching for it. 

"You're with me. Right?" Jongdae asked, flipping the gun so the barrel pointed directly at Jongin’s heart.   

"Right," Jongin said, raising his left hand in the air, "Until I get my answers, I'm with you. No matter what hell you’ll drag me through." 

Jongdae searched for something on Jongin’s expression. A sign that he’d lie. A sign that he’d stay. A sign that he’d die, and a sign that he’d say nothing but the truth in a moment like this. The green light of Jongin’s bracelet cast a sickly shadow over his face as he proclaimed his promise. 

Jongdae finally flipped the gun back around, handed Jongin the handle first, and snatched his jacket from off the table before slinging it on top of Jongin’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Jongin said. It was a little tight, given Jongdae’s smaller frame, but he needed something to conceal the gun-shaped bulge. Not that anyone around these streets would care.

The wind bit at his cheeks, ruffling up his hair as he walked outside, carefully shutting the front door behind him. He heard at least ten locks click behind him before turning left and deciding to see where that road led. As he passed by the same, dim streets and worn-down store fronts, Jongin zipped up his jacket and trudged onwards. This was one of those places he’d never willingly visit, one of those places Yixing would visit for a business trip since there were only liars here. 

“And then I said…I’ll hire an assassin to kill you, I swear to god,” one man outside a bar said as Jongin walked past him and his friend. 

“And did you?” his friend asked. 

“No. I mean…after everything he did to my brother? Of course not,” the man said. When his bracelet flashed red, he and his friend erupted into laughter. 

Jongin sped up, determined to place as much space between himself and those men.

“Fresh fruit! The freshest fruit you can find here,” a fruit vendor said, pushing a fruit cart towards Jongin. As he approached, he wasn’t surprised to find the vendor’s bracelet red. Still, people stepped forwards asking for peaches and apples. 

Propaganda posters were pasted around the concrete walls and black brick alleys, but someone had splattered red paint all over it, and someone else had spray painted music notes and lightning on top of it. If Jongin hadn’t seen that exact poster everywhere in the city, that motto everywhere around his work building, then he wouldn’t have known what the original image was. One android pointing directly at whoever was unlucky enough to be looking. Red letters underneath in bold, capital font.

 

LIE AND DIE

 

Luckily, Jongin managed to find a market around the corner and entered. At least the market seemed cleaner than anything outside, with its only slightly dusty floors and mostly unchipped paint walls. The smell of strong herbs wafted towards him as he stepped inside, which was unsurprising given the thyme, nightshade, and rosemary hanging from the ceiling. As he passed by the produce section, the holographic prices projected into the air slightly glitched, flickering in and out. 

A sign near the meat station spun around in bright yellow lights.

 

CHECK YOUR BALANCE HERE.

 

A customer approached and scanned their bracelet in the machine, waiting a few moments before their bank account balance appeared on the screen. 

Jongin wandered through the aisles, trying to clear his mind of everything that had happened. He stood in front of the canned section for no reason at all, picking up a can and turning it around it without registering what was inside. Peace. This was it. Solitude among the metal cans away from the guns and the fire. Maybe he’d stay here until everything blew over. Yeah. That seemed logical. 

But the sound of buzzes indicating bracelets turning from green to red accompanied by loud yelling snapped Jongin out of that unrealistic thought, causing him to flee towards the deli counter. After picking up some sandwiches and drinks, he headed to check-out. 

“How is your day today, valued customer?” the clerk asked, ringing up Jongin’s food and drinks. 

Jongin blinked. The clerk had seemed so human at first, but upon closer examination, it was only an android. At least this one didn’t want to kill him. Yet. 

"Good. Average," Jongin muttered. His bracelet dinged red, and he instinctively looked around with wide eyes and clamped a hand on his wrist.

“Do not worry,” the android said, “I have been reprogrammed to not care if you lie. Everyone has one of those days. Right?” 

“Yeah,” Jongin said. Except he was having a straight week of days like that. Ever since Jongdae. 

After paying, Jongin left, remembering to weave in and out of the streets, to take detours, and to circle around every now and then. It was an old A.S.S. habit, standard protocol to prevent being followed. 

Which was exactly why he was being followed this very second. Jongin noticed someone who’d followed him since he left the market, the same figure with a motorcycle helmet over their head. Jongin glanced in the rearview mirrors of the car he passed, pressing his lips together as he saw the figure continue to shadow him. Androids didn’t move like that, with such agility required to follow Jongin as he leapt and jumped over crates piled on the street. 

But if this human wanted him dead, he’d already be dead. 

It took him a minute of careful observation to determine exactly who was following him. Who made his heart race like that. Who mirrored Jongin’s same spins and twirls on the street as he attempted to escape. It was clear, however, that whoever was following him would not give up so easily, so Jongin ducked into an alley and held his breath, holding out Jongdae’s gun and flipping off the safety. He counted, accommodating the footsteps. The amount of time it’d take for the person tailing him to turn the corner.

5.

4. 

3. 

2. 

1— 

“What do you want,” Jongin finally said as the figure walked straight into his line of fire. 

The figure raised his hands and placed them on his head. 

“No sudden moves,” Jongin said. 

“Just taking off my helmet,” the figure said. Jongin held his breath as the figure slowly took off the helmet and ran fingers through his hair.   

“What do you want, Yixing,” Jongin said, keeping his gun raised. A part of him was glad to see Yixing hadn’t been hurt, hadn’t died at the airport. Another part of him was bracing for a fight. A fight he’d have to claw his way out of if he wanted to return to Jongdae and snatch the information he needed.

“You’re working with Jongdae now. You’re partners now,” Yixing said, holding his helmet with both hands. It didn’t seem like he was armed, but Yixing didn’t need guns to be dangerous. Jongin was well aware how good Yixing was with his body after all.    

“I’m using him to get what I need,” Jongin said, “There’s a difference.”

Working with Jongdae as partners implied that they actually got along, that Jongin could actually stand Jongdae long enough to finish this job without complaining. That they were stronger together, better forever because they were partners. So of course that was false, it was all false. 

“You know this doesn’t look good to the Director and everyone else,” Yixing said. Jongin truly hated how good he looked in this moment. It made pretending to want nothing to do with him that much harder. “After viewing security footage, they’re saying that Jongdae staged the kidnapping to hide your involvement. Is that true?” 

Jongin wouldn’t dare lie to anyone on a normal day, but he’d have to be absolutely foolish to try and even lie to a man who didn’t even need to look at the manacle on his wrist to know how his heart felt. So instead, he deflected and asked a question instead.

“Why would you believe that?” Jongin said, “You saw me taken in front of your eyes.” 

“So he kidnapped you…and then blackmailed you to help him?” Yixing said, eyebrows slightly furrowing. 

“He told me he knew about my father,” Jongin said. He took his finger off the trigger but kept the gun raised. “That’s why I joined A.S.S in the first place. You know that.” 

“This is not the way to find out, Jongin,” Yixing said. Jongin stayed in place, letting Yixing take another step closer. 

“I’ve lived long enough without knowing,” Jongin said, “If he can give me the answers, then so be it. That’s my way.” 

Yixing gritted his teeth. 

“Then what will you do after you get what you want?” Yixing asked, running a hand through his hair again, “How will you escape punishment for even being seen in the same place as him?”

“I’ll turn him in,” Jongin said, “It’s simple as that.” 

He didn’t know why it had taken him this long to make this conclusion, but now, as it slipped out of his mouth, he realized this was the only way things could end well for him.

“I’ll help you when you’re back,” Yixing said, expression softening, “to save you from prosecution or punishment. But there’s a limit to what I can do. If they question me and ask the right questions, then I can’t lie.” 

“I didn’t ask you to. We’re done. Remember?” Jongin curtly said, causing Yixing to look away, “You wanted that. You told me that.” 

Jongin kept his gun raised, but his arm began to tire. After letting out a long sigh, Yixing placed his helmet on the floor and started reaching into his pocket. Jongin strode forwards and pressed the gun to Yixing’s heart. 

“It’s only a burner,” Yixing said, pulling out a phone and holding it out to Jongin, “You still remember my number, right?” 

“It’s probably bugged,” Jongin said. 

Yixing took Jongin’s other hand and slipped it into his palm. He folded Jongin’s fingers over the phone and held his hand for a moment longer before letting go. 

“It’s not,” Yixing said, “I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“You’ve done a lot of things to me,” Jongin said, though his resolve was weakening, “You transferred me out of our department. Sent me away. And left. You left.” 

Yixing reached out, sliding a hand around Jongin’s waist, and lifted the corners of his lips. That’s when Jongin finally lowered the gun, when Jongin finally admitted to himself that he was absolutely one hundred percent not over Yixing, and when Jongin reaffirmed that he would take a bullet for Yixing any day of the week, any second of the day. 

“I’ll be in touch,” Yixing said, his hand firm on Jongin’s waist. With his other hand, he reached out to brush Jongin’s bangs away from his eyes like he had done when they were two college kids again, loving each other for the first time again. And like he had done when Jongin was recovering in the hospital, listening as Yixing told him he was leaving him now, loving him for the last time now. 

“I’ll get you out of this,” Yixing said, his smile widening as Jongin hesitantly accepted the phone. 

This was all too familiar, and Jongin had enough. He could not slip, could not fall so quickly back into old habits, old feelings.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pushed me away,” Jongin said. He was here for one reason, and that was for family. His father.

Yixing was no longer included in that family, so Jongin shoved him backwards, picked up his groceries, and sprinted off without looking back. He raced around the city, looking behind him every few seconds, only slowing down after he was sure Yixing was gone.

It had been a miracle that he had managed to find the safe house again, but Jongin’s memory had always served him well, allowing him to remember everything he needed to know and didn’t even need to know for exams, every rule that he was not allowed to break in this society. It also, on other occasions, forced him to remember the exact look on Yixing’s face moments ago when it was Jongin’s turn to leave.

After checking his watch, Jongin strode up to the safe house and confidently knocked on the door. Only forty-five minutes had passed since he had left. 

“Jongin, you’re back,” Jongdae smiled when he opened the door. Jongin nodded and stepped inside, finding the blueprints of the building still hovering on one of the tables. 

“I bought some food,” Jongin said as he lifted his bag. And a burner phone. But Jongin would keep that to himself.   

“Thanks,” Jongdae said, reaching into the bag and tossing Joohyun a wrapped sandwich. He unwrapped once himself and took a bite before speaking with his mouth full. “Did you have any trouble?” 

“I thought someone was tailing me, so I took my time,” Jongin said, careful with his wording so he wouldn’t be caught in a lie.

“Smart,” Jongdae said, gently punching Jongin’s shoulder, “Was it Yixing?” 

Jongin was spared from answering when Joohyun called them over, but he didn’t miss the shadow that crossed Jongdae’s face for a moment before it disappeared. 

“I booked you your gig for tomorrow night,” Joohyun said, “but which venue?” 

“Biggest one you can find,” Jongdae grinned, “I love the crowd. I’ll head straight there after we do some recon, so let everyone know.” 

“Wait, sorry,” Jongin said, holding up his hand, “What are you booking a venue for?” 

“Work,” Jongdae nodded tapping the surface of the table until he projected a hologram of a concert stadium, “I told you. To maintain my cover, I have to work the cover job.” 

“You’re joking,” Jongin blinked, staring at a venue that no doubt could hold thousands and thousands of people. 

“Ever been to a rock concert?” Jongdae asked, “You can be my manager.” 

“So you weren’t lying,” Jongin blankly said. 

“Why would I lie about the second greatest love in my life right after Sehun?” Jongdae said, placing a hand over his heart as he jokingly pulled a dramatic look of great offense onto his countenance. 

“Don’t we not have time for this?” Jongin weakly said. It was so hard to understand when Jongdae was lying or telling the truth, so Jongin had always assumed everything Jongdae had said were lies. Now, he wondered what other things Jongdae had been honest about. 

“The Director isn’t here yet,” Jongdae said, “And if we don’t have time for music, time for love, then what’s the fucking point of anything at all? Lighten up, Jongin.” 

It was funny. That’s what Jongin used to tell Yixing when he was studying too hard for A.S.S. entrance exams. 

“So you’re telling me that as soon as we survive this recon mission,” Jongin slowly said, “we’re going straight to a concert?” 

“Yeah,” Jongdae flashed Jongin a thumbs up, “What else would we do? It’s part of my alibi, too.”

“Are you usually this chaotic, or are you showing off because I’m here?” Jongin said. 

“You’re lucky Sehun’s not here,” Joohyun said. She closely examined the sandwich before taking a bite. “Together, they’re the most chaotic entities I know.” 

“Lucky me,” Jongin said, “Lucky you.” 

Joohyun let out a small laugh before she stopped herself. 

“Lucky us,” she nodded. 

After they finished eating, Joohyun brushed the crumbs from her lap and discussed the plan for recon, telling them exactly how many human guards were stationed on every floor, how many androids they had to avoid at all costs.

“If it came to it,” Jongin said, “Would it be better to face humans or the androids?”

It was a silly question, he realized, once he saw Jongdae and Joohyun share a look. 

“Humans,” Joohyun said, “Of course humans.”

“Because humans fear,” Jongdae said, “Androids are machines. They won’t care if you’ve got a gun pressed to their head.”

“So…we’re looking for exit points, entry points, and back up escape routes for the first few back up escape routes to be safe,” Jongin said, in a desperate attempt to change the subject. If he thought about fighting androids any longer, he’d seriously consider going home. Just going home, crashing on his mother’s couch, and sleeping the rest of the years away to escape the consequences of this whole mess. 

“It’s easy,” Jongdae said, “Super simple, super safe.”

“Right,” Jongin said, “Of course. Because sneaking into a top government facility crawling with agents and androids to spy on them is totally simple. Totally safe.” 

“Joohyun’s designed these bullets to be able to penetrate android armor,” Jongdae said, picking up a bullet to show Jongin, “And you have me. So like I said, it’ll be easy.”

 

 

ϟ ϟ ϟ

 

 

Maybe Jongin should have learned to trust Jongdae. Because, all in all, recon really was easy. 

Simple. 

Safe. 

The next morning, the two of them arrived at the building at 6AM. Only facility and maintenance workers arrived this early in order to work before the rest of the employees arrived. 

Jongdae grabbed two unsuspecting workers by the backs of their shirts and pulled them behind a car. 

“Wait, don’t kill them,” Jongin called out, resisting the urge to watch between his fingers as the cleaners screamed. 

“Relax,” Jongdae said, slamming one head into the car window and another head onto his knee. 

“They’re still alive,” Jongdae said after noticing Jongin’s expression, “Who do you think I am? A killer?” 

Jongdae’s laugh rang in his ears as Jongin bent down to remove one of the men’s cleaning jackets.

“You could have just used a stun gun,” Jongin said as he threw the jacket over himself. 

“I don’t like those things,” Jongdae said as he took the other man’s jacket and began buttoning it up, “I prefer regular guns with bullets I can count. There has to be a limit to how much you can shoot after all. If you have unlimited ammo, unlimited stunners, then it’d be easy to lose control. You have to know how to hold back.” 

“And you think you’re the type of person that holds back?” Jongin asked, shivering as the wind blew against them.   

“Absolutely,” Jongdae said. Without hesitating, he grabbed the bottom of Jongin’s jacket and began buttoning him up. “One bullet for one kill. There’s no need to be excessive. No one likes a trigger-happy person, really. It’s so fucking unrefined and it shows no talent whatsoever. What’s the point of shooting all your shots and hoping at least one will land when you could make one bullet count instead?” 

“If you say so,” Jongin mumbled as Jongdae picked the locks of the car beside him.  

After helping Jongdae drag the two bodies into the trunk, Jongin braced himself as they walked through the front doors of the building. Joohyun could mess with the security cams all she wanted, but they still had to lie. 

At least Jongin could stay silent and let Jongdae do what he did best. 

“Good morning happy workers,” the android stationed at the checkpoint said, “Are you here to work?” 

“Yes,” Jongdae said, lifting up the IDs he had stolen for a second, “We’re here to clean.” 

He raised his wrist, showing off his green light. The android nodded and turned to Jongin. 

“Are you here to clean, too?” he asked. 

“Yes, he is,” Jongdae answered for him. 

“Please provide a verbal answer,” the android warned Jongin. 

“He’s lost his voice, so he can’t speak today,” Jongdae insisted. 

The android studied Jongdae’s bracelet for ten seconds longer before they turned and opened the gate.

“Thank you for telling the truth. That is most logical of you,” the android said, “You will find the cleaning supplies in the usual place. Have a good day, and remember to work efficiently.” 

“Thanks,” Jongdae said, brushing past the airport as he dragged Jongin along with him, “We’ll head straight there right now.” 

After Jongdae turned a corner towards the cleaning closet, Jongin kept up with him, occasionally sneaking glances at the man beside him. He was justified with his tendency to believe everything Jongdae said were lies after all. Look at how easily he lied. 

Inside the closet, Jongdae wheeled out a large trash bin and cocked his head for Jongin to help push. 

“We’re in,” Jongdae whispered as they pushed the cart through the hallways, “Approaching the first elevator.” 

“Remember,” Joohyun said, her voice crackling through her comms for the first time this morning. “You’re going to meet two android guards at the entrance after you take the elevator up. Then five human guards are scattered around the floor.” 

“Got it,” Jongdae said, pushing the up arrow twice. After stepping inside, they waited in silence, watching the pulsing green arrow on the doors pointing upwards.

Once the elevator doors swung open, Jongdae nodded in greeting to the two androids that held the elevator open for them as they pushed the bin outside. This floor was the only place to access a bridge that connected to the more restricted part of the building. The android maintenance and production center. The A.S.S. archives. The Director’s office.

The bridge was in sight, only a few meters away, before a voice made Jongin stop in his tracks. 

“Are you two new? I haven’t seen you around.” 

Jongin slowly turned around and faced a guard with a bracelet on his wrist that matched his own. Human. Honestly, no matter how frightening androids might have been, Jongin would have preferred to meet an android right here instead of this human. Unlike androids, humans could process emotions, could read facial expressions much more skillfully than androids could. So Jongin worried that this human guard could easily see the panic that was manifesting on his widening eyes. 

“Yeah,” Jongdae said, “This is our first day.”

There was no flash of red on his wrist, but the guard still frowned. Still. Paused. Before he welcomed them to the building and allowed them to proceed. 

The area past the bridge had security cameras every few feet instead of every few meters, and Jongin looked downwards to avoid their red eyes. 

“Joohyun, you’ve got the cams down?” Jongdae asked. Facility workers weren’t allowed past this point, so they’d be questioned by anyone who saw them. 

“Who the fuck do you think I am?” Joohyun said, “They’ve been down the second you stepped inside.” 

“Just checking,” Jongdae laughed. 

Honestly, it was too easy. It really was. Jongin marveled at how no one had even shot at them yet, how he wasn’t even scared yet. Jongdae easily fooled the androids that questioned them, and they always managed to hide if they saw any humans approaching. After seeing how Jongdae worked, he should have been surprised that A.S.S. had actually managed to hunt down a few assassins of Jongdae’s level. All the intel and agents they deployed had nothing on the sheer luck and deceit Jongdae was gifted with. 

Jongin had even begun to lower his guard, relaxing slightly as Jongdae led him towards the Director’s office, following the map he projected from his bracelet. They had ditched the trash bin behind some large potted plants and tossed their jackets away, now looking like two underdressed agents instead of cleaners. 

“Look at that,” Jongdae said as they stood in front of the Director’s office, “We’re here.” 

As Jongdae picked the locks, Jongin checked the time, finding it not even 7AM yet. Who was he kidding. Being an assassin was much easier than it seemed. All this time, Jongin thought that they looked behind their shoulders for life, living in the shadows, but here was Jongdae, waltzing in through any door he wanted, singing his heart out on stage for thousands to see. 

After Jongdae picked the lock, he pushed open the door and nudged Jongin inside with him. The Director’s office looked…almost exactly like the one at Jongin’s branch. The same minimalist furniture, sparse decorations. Same book shelves in the back.

“He’s too predictable,” Jongdae said, striding towards the bookshelf. After examining the books, he attempted to remove a little black book, causing the bookshelves to part, revealing a safe. “It makes our jobs so fucking easy at least.” 

“All right. The safe’s a different model, but that’s not a problem. Recon’s done,” Jongdae nodded, “Once he arrives tomorrow, I’m confident we can snatch my flash drive and leave before they even notice we were here.”

“You can crack that?” Jongin asked, bending down to examine the safe. He was surprised the Director didn’t prefer using something more technologically advanced. This safe was an older model, something from at least a hundred years ago, relying on inner mechanisms and knob twisting to open. 

“Do you even need to ask?” Jongdae asked, motioning for Jongin to step backwards so he could pull the bookshelves together again. 

“Is there anything illegal you _can’t_ do,” Jongin said, watching the bookshelves conceal the safe again. 

“Yeah,” Jongdae said, “I can’t jaywalk. You know how scary it is to step onto an open road and pray some motherfucker behind the wheel won’t ram into you?” 

Unable to respond, Jongin looked into the camera suspended in the corner of the room and hoped Joohyun was watching so he’d have someone to share this experience with. 

“Let’s go,” Jongdae said, tousling Jongin’s hair before poking his head out the door to look both ways, “I’ll buy you ice cream for breakfast.” 

“It better be vanilla and raspberry,” Jongin glumly said, following Jongdae outside as they walked down the corridor.

“Never mind. Lunch. Ice cream for lunch,” Jongdae said, pushing Jongin behind him as he drew away from the corner. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Jongin whispered. 

Jongdae peeked around the corner before sliding back. 

“That’s new,” he whispered, “Ten human guards with assault rifles walking our way.” 

“Oh. I see,” Jongin said as calmly as he possibly could. All the ease and laxness he’d been accustomed to disappeared, replaced by a sudden spike in adrenaline. In a single second, Jongin’s heart went from zero to a thousand beats per minute, and he clutched Jongdae’s sleeve in an attempt to stay calm. It’d been a habit of his to grab his sisters’ sleeves when he was a tiny kid afraid of something. He thought that habit had disappeared after his sisters left for boarding school when he was ten, but apparently not. 

“Joohyun,” Jongdae whispered, “What are our options. I can fight if I need to, but there’s no cover here. Jongin could get hurt.”

“Run down the hall and make a right,” Joohyun answered, “That’ll take you to the android department. Usually the doors are locked during system updates, but the next one is scheduled a few hours from now. Run through there and I’ll guide you through an alternative route.”

“Let’s go,” Jongdae said, grabbing Jongin’s hand as they ran down the hallway, their echoing footsteps almost drowning out the deafening booming of Jongin’s heart.

 

 

ϟ

 

 

“What did you find in the android department?” the Director asked, jolting Jongin out from the past, “Did you cross through and wander below?”

“What’s below?” Jongin asked, gritting his teeth as the back of his neck began to itch. He needed to speed up the story so he’d have use of his hands and arms again. Sitting here confined and suffocated by this lie detector was beginning to take its toll on his body. 

“You don’t know? You’re really pretending not to know?” the Director said, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table.

“Yeah,” Jongin said, “I don’t know.” 

A violent scarlet light flooded the room, illuminating the grin on Jongin’s face. 

“Just kidding,” Jongin laughed, his admittance restoring the room back to green and silencing the alarms at once, “Of course I know what’s down there. But we didn’t take the elevator down this time. We only crossed through the android department to escape. That’s all.” 

“What did you see in there?” the Director asked. 

“Androids,” Jongin said, “What else? You ask the worst questions.” 

“What did you see inside?” the Director repeated, the scowl deepening on his face, “What secrets did you learn?” 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Jongin shrugged, “We only saw androids lined up for maintenance. Red wires sticking out of their arms and necks. Stuff like that.” 

“You saw the androids updating?” the Director said. 

“Your words, not mine,” Jongin said, wishing he could shrug. It was hard to piss the Director off with his body language if half his body was restricted. 

The Director shot him a look. 

“No,” Jongin sighed, “Not that time.”

“So you did see androids updating at one time,” the Director said.

“I mean, I guess,” Jongin shrugged, “But I only understand now what I saw then. How was I supposed to look at them and know the system was backing up their memory of the last twenty-four hours and saving it to the building’s servers?” 

“You really didn’t know then,” the Director said. 

“No. Neither did Jongdae,” Jongin said. 

The Director checked the monitors before begrudgingly accepting Jongin’s truth. 

“It would’ve been easy to sabotage them though,” Jongin said, wishing he learned when and how to shut up, “You know…slip a virus into the computer systems and wipe out their memory. Or what if we rewrote their codes so they remembered different memories than what actually happened? Or—” 

Something banged on the window three times, causing Jongin to quiet down, startled by the sudden noise.

“But you didn’t,” the Director said, daring Jongin to correct him. 

“No,” Jongin said, shaking his head, “Of course not. But you’re jumping timelines. The first time I entered that building with Jongdae, we were there for one purpose and one purpose only. Jongdae’s flash drive. That’s all. That’s the truth.” 

The Director crossed his arms, waited for any red light, any wailing alarm. But when nothing out of the ordinary happened, he exhaled loudly and continued. 

“What did you do after you finished your recon mission with him?” the Director said, “While you waited for me to arrive at the building the next day with Jongdae’s flash drive, what did you do?” 

“I went to a concert,” Jongin said.

“That’s not logical,” the Director said, turning his head to stare at the monitors. He watched in silence before speaking again. “You’re telling the truth, but that’s not…right. That doesn’t seem accurate. Why would you go to a concert when you were in the middle of a job? Who has the time for that?” 

“Hey,” Jongin said, lips curling up into a lazy smirk, “When legends have gigs, there’s nothing for you to do except watch. And love.”

 

 

ϟ

 

 

Despite the earlier scare with the heavily armed guards, Jongdae and Jongin faced no major antagonism or problems once Joohyun led them through the android department. Both of them kept their eyes forward, refusing to look at the motionless bodies that were organized row by row. The servers around them eerily hummed, and the white lights flickered every now and then.

After exiting the android department, Joohyun guided them out the building. They occasionally passed by androids marching in straight rows wearing thick armor and helmets, but as long as they didn’t look suspicious or out of place, they weren’t stopped. 

Jongin waited until they were a hundred meters from the building until he finally clutched his chest and gasped. 

“See?” Jongdae said, almost skipping as they made their way back to the safehouse, “That was easy. I didn’t even have to pull out my gun once.” 

“You owe me ice cream,” Jongin said, rubbing his face, stunned by how effortlessly their recon mission had went. If he wasn’t miraculously thrown into detainment after this and was allowed back into A.S.S., he’d have to have a word with their security branch. 

“Done,” Jongdae said, tousling his hair with a laugh, “Wait right here, and I’ll be back. Vanilla and raspberry, right?” 

“It better be the best ice cream I’ve ever had in my life,” Jongin glared as he batted Jongdae’s hands away and fixed his bangs. 

“You got it,” Jongdae said, giving Jongin a salute before he walked towards the nearest corner store, “I’ll shoot up the store if they don’t have it.”

Jongin gave him a look.

“ _Kidding_!” Jongdae’s laugh echoed through the streets as he jogged towards the store, “I’m _kidding_ , Jongin. You really think I’d do that for you? Over ice cream?” 

Jongin put his hands on his hips, watching Jongdae enter the store before he ducked behind the alleyway beside him and pulled out his burner phone. 

There was only one number he needed to call right now, one voice he wanted to listen to the most. 

“Hello?” Jongin asked when the call connected. 

“Hello?” 

“It’s me. Jongin,” he said, realizing his call had been labeled under an unknown number. 

“Oh, Jongin! It’s so good to hear from you. I was starting to get worried.” 

“Sorry, I was busy with work,” Jongin said. Technically it was true. “How are you doing, Mom?” 

Family always made him feel better. His mother’s kiss could erase any bruises and bumps, his sisters’ laughter could make his heart burst in all the right ways, and all their company made him the happiest boy alive. 

“I’m good, always good,” she said. The sound of her voice calmed his heart. “It’s so quiet without you or your sisters here. I suppose I’ll never get used to all this silence…When are you bringing Yixing to visit? It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen him.” 

Jongin hesitated before telling the truth. He’d hidden it from his mother for long enough. 

“We broke up,” Jongin said, picking the least humiliating and devastating way to say _he left me because I saved his f—…life._  

“I…see,” his mother smoothly said, recovering from the blow in seconds. Jongin knew she’d loved Yixing and had always teased them by asking when was their wedding date. “I won’t ask if you don’t want to tell me why. But that’s too bad. He was a good man…I could always see how much he cared for you.” 

“Well,” Jongin said, kicking at the pavement. He peeked out of the corner to make sure Jongdae hadn’t returned yet before retreating into the shadows. “It’s done. We’re done.” 

“Take care of yourself, Jongin,” his mother urged, “I know how much he meant to you, and there’s no way any of this is easy.” 

No, it hadn’t. 

It hadn’t been at all. 

The first days after Yixing had left had Jongin curled up under his hospital sheets almost begging the nurses to sedate him so he wouldn’t have to be conscious and feel everything and nothing all at once. The first month had Jongin slumped on his couch at home realizing how alone he was. And for the first time in his life, he couldn’t even bring himself to dance in his room with the music turned on as loud as he dared. 

Perhaps the worst part of it all was that Jongin could not even bring himself to delete their pictures together, to block Yixing’s number, to erase him from his heart. 

They’d broken up not because they fell out of love, not because their hearts had been stolen by someone else, but rather because Yixing loved Jongin enough to let him go before he died trying to fight death a second time for him. All for him. So despite how hard Jongin tried not to think of him, he still did. No matter how much Jongin told himself not to miss Yixing, he still did. And no matter how much Jongin tried cutting out his heart in an effort to stop loving him, he still did. Of course he still did. 

A part of him hoped Yixing still did, too.   

“I’ll talk to you again soon,” Jongin said, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, “I hope you rest well tonight, Mom. You always work so hard.” 

“I will. You know I will. I love you, Jongin.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Jongin hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket. Even though he knew the wall behind him was probably filthy, he leaned against it and focused on breathing. He closed his eyes, feeling the late morning wind gently ruffle his hair, listening as the cars rushed past him. When he heard a distant tune, a cheerfully sung melody crescendoing as the singer approached, Jongin opened his eyes and poked his head out of the alley to find Jongdae swinging a plastic bag around. 

“What’s that song called?” Jongin asked, stepping out of the alley to meet him in the middle of the street, “Did you write that, too?” 

Jongdae nodded, finishing the last measure of the song before he answered. 

“It’s called ‘I Love Sehun Who Puts the Sun And Stars To Shame,’” Jongdae said, “It’s a slow rock ballad. You should hear it live with the rest of the band. It’s so beautiful…but not as beautiful as Sehun of course.” 

“I don’t really listen to rock,” Jongin said, thanking Jongdae as he unwrapped his ice cream. Vanilla with raspberry syrup drizzled on top. Almost exactly like how he had remembered it. 

“Oh? Then what do you like?” Jongdae said, unwrapping his own cone to reveal red bean ice cream. 

“Classical music,” Jongin said, “since I dance mostly ballet, I listen to a lot of softer music…If you like rock, then I don’t think you’d like it.”

He licked his ice cream, savoring the soft sweetness of the vanilla before the sharper raspberry taste seeped into the flavor. 

“Are you _kidding_?” Jongdae said, looking both ways before he led Jongin across the street, “Classical music is fucking amazing.” 

“You listen to it, too?” Jongin said, perking up as he glanced at Jongdae.

“Of course,” Jongdae nodded, “It goes hard as _fuck._ ”

Jongin hid a laugh as he licked his ice cream again. Under the chilly morning and cloudy skies, the ice cream hadn’t begun melting yet. 

“Which composers do you like?” Jongin asked before shyly adding his own answers, “Tchaikovsky was my favorite to dance to.”

“ _Damn_ ,” Jongdae said, nodding in approval. He paused to bite into his ice cream. “Me, too. I won’t understand how some people think he was a soft flower boy with cute music. Haven’t they heard his first piano concerto? That shit _bangs_.” 

“I used to headbang to the opening of that song with with my sisters,” Jongin laughed, feeling happier than he had felt in months. 

“See?” Jongdae said, “If you like that, I’m sure you’d like rock, too.”

“Maybe,” Jongin shrugged, “I don’t know. My mother was careful with keeping the noise down at our house since she was worried it would upset the neighbors and trigger a petition against us. So she never encouraged loud music.”

“Classical music isn’t all that soft,” Jongdae said, “But I guess you’ll see for yourself when you come tonight.”

“I’m going to your concert?” Jongin asked. 

“Well, I sure hope you are,” Jongdae said, taking another large bite of his ice cream, “You’re going as my manager.”

“Great,” Jongin said, watching as a drop of ice cream finally slid down onto his hand, “Of course you want me to lie again and pose as your manager.” 

“It’ll be fun,” Jongdae said, slinging an arm over Jongin’s shoulder as they continued to walk deeper into the city. The signs looked shabbier, the streets darker the further they walked, but Jongin wasn’t concerned this time. “No one cares about lies in the underground music world. You’ll be safe there. You’ll have fun there.” 

When Jongin still said nothing, Jongdae shook his arm and whined. 

“ _Please_?” Jongdae complained, his lips jutting out into a dangerous pout. 

Despite his head telling him to stay at the safe house, sleep, and recover from today, his heart listened to Jongdae’s whining that was steadily increasing in pitch and volume, and nodded. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Jongdae grinned, looping his arm through Jongin’s arm, “Thank you, Jongin.” 

As they made their way back to the safe house, Jongin finished his breakfast ice cream, not even minding that more of it had melted and spilled onto his hand. 

It was not the best ice cream he’d ever eaten, but it easily made top three.

 

 

ϟ ϟ ϟ

 

 

That night, they showed up at the concert venue dressed to look the part. Jongdae was wearing something dramatic, smoky eyeliner around his eyes, ripped black jeans hanging together by threads. He also wore a tank top ripped at the side, exposing the tattoos and scars that ran up the side of his torso and his biceps. 

But Jongin, who didn’t want to look like a punk rock dick, opted for something a fraction tamer, borrowing from Jongdae tight jeans, a band t-shirt with the sleeves still intact, and a leather jacket. 

“I’m your manager,” Jongin practiced as they stepped out of the car and began walking to the entrance. He groaned when his bracelet turned red. “Stop making me lie. I can’t do it.” 

“I told you, Jongin. You don’t need to worry about that in a place like this. There aren’t any androids or agents here. Just people like me.” 

“Because that would make me feel so much better,” Jongin reflexively said. In the distance, what seemed like at least a thousand people had lined up, eager to enter the stadium. 

Jongdae looked away and let out a short laugh before launching into a usual speech of his. He sped up, forcing Jongin to take longer strides, as he told him how it would be nice if Sehun was here, how Sehun would have dressed if he were here. Jongin felt a buzz from his back pocket, let Jongdae pull ahead, and checked it quickly. 

 _Sts_? 

His status…What could he tell Yixing that wouldn’t set off a thousand alarms? 

Jongin shoved the phone back into his pocket without replying, pulled at his tight pants, and jogged to keep up with Jongdae. Along the way, he passed by people dressed similarly to himself. 

“You gonna ask for a Bloody Harry tonight at the bar?” one person loudly asked the person beside him. 

“Yeah. This is the night. Something needs to be done immediately,” the other person said. 

Bloody Harry? Jongin was about to open his mouth and ask Jongdae exactly what was a Bloody Harry before Jongdae whisked him away, leading him in a different direction. 

“We’re going through the VIP entrance,” Jongdae said, swinging an arm around Jongin’s shoulder, “since I’m me after all.” 

“How…big are you in the underground scene?” Jongin asked, “Like…am I supposed to feel bad that I’m not keeping up with what the youth like these days?”

“Big enough to draw a crowd like that,” Jongdae said, pointing behind him. Jongin looked back and found that the line had tripled in size. 

“How have you managed to escape A.S.S for this long?” Jongin asked, stumbling on a patch of uneven grass, “If you’re practically a public figure and you perform at these things? How haven’t we caught you yet?” 

“This isn’t exactly the place where people who are respectable by your standards go,” Jongdae, steadying him with a hand before he could fall. 

Before Jongin could respond, Jongdae waved at the guard at the entrance and trotted ahead.   

“My _man_ ,” the guard said, grinning as soon as he saw Jongdae, “What the fuck is up!”

He held out a fist that Jongdae eagerly bumped with his own. 

“I haven’t seen you here in a while,” the guard said. Jongin drew back behind Jongdae again, though admitted that having a human guard was such a nice change. 

“I’ve been working around different parts of the world for the last few months,” Jongdae said, “But now I’m here and I’m ready to tear this stage up.” 

“Everyone always comes to these concerts hoping you’ll show up. I guess tonight’s crowd are the lucky ones,” the guard nodded, “Now you know the drill, Jongdae. You’re you, but I can’t let you in unless you deliver.” 

Deliver? 

Jongdae nodded and straightened up.

“What’s up,” Jongdae said, “I’m the worst singer in the world, and I hate Sehun with all my heart.” 

For the first time, Jongdae’s bracelet finally changed from green to red, stunning Jongin with its sudden, loud buzz. The guard laughed, thumped Jongdae’s back, and turned expectantly to Jongin. 

“What?” Jongin asked, glancing at Jongdae for help. 

“You have to lie to enter,” Jongdae said, “Which should be easy for you, considering our airport adventures.” 

“No,” Jongin shook his head, “I can’t lie. You know they count how many lies you tell, right? If you rack up a thousand lies by the end of the year, you get _detained_.”

The guard and Jongdae blinked, none looking particularly threatened.

“Okay, but you’re probably at maybe thirty,” Jongdae said, “That’s a long way from a thousand.” 

“I _can’t_ ,” Jongin said, “If I lie now, then it’ll become a habit.” 

“You’re so funny,” Jongdae said, shaking his head, “A lie isn’t the worst thing in the world. So hurry up and lie. I need to meet the band I’m hijacking tonight so we can discuss a setlist. I want to play ‘Sehun Has My Whole Entire Fucking Heart’ but the chord progressions are tricky, so I need to make sure they can perform it well.” 

“No,” Jongin said, feeling a bubble of frustration rise in his chest. It was just like Jongdae to throw himself into a dangerous situation and make him _lie_. 

“Okay,” Jongdae sighed, “Repeat after me. I still care about Yixing and I think Jongdae is the greatest person in the world.” 

“I’m going to…” Jongin began to speak, strangling the air for emphasis as his emotions silenced him. He exhaled forcefully and finished his threat. “I’m going to _kill_ you, Jongdae. Don’t say his name here.” 

His bracelet beeped. 

Jongdae grinned.

"This way," Jongdae said, leading Jongin deeper into the stadium. Band merch with different symbols splattered on t-shirts and hoodies were piled up in boxes stored in one room. Faded band posters and torn stickers littered the wall like mangled wallpaper. As they walked deeper into the room, Jongin could hear the crowd screaming and singing along to songs that sounded vaguely familiar. If Jongdae performed at a public place like this often, then every single A.S.S. agent in charge of hunting Jongdae was completely incompetent and absolutely useless.

The stadium's underground section was a winding labyrinth of twisting tunnels and interminable hallways. If Jongdae hadn't been here, Jongin would've never found his way back out or known which way was which. They passed by people dressed similarly to them, all shouting and running to Jongdae for a hug or a high five after seeing him once. 

"This is my dear manager who keep me in line," Jongdae said, gesturing at Jongin whenever someone asked who he was. Jongin shook their hands politely, preferring to stay silent in case he'd contradict any lies Jongdae told.

Jongdae knocked on a door with a worn sign that read _Dressing Room_ before pushing it open. 

"What the fuck is _up_ ," he shouted. The musicians inside blinked before they all yelled and leapt over the couches to greet Jongdae, thumping him on the back, asking him how he had been.

Jongin retreated to a chair in the corner of the room, watching as Jongdae sorted out the details for tonight's gig. The vocalist of the band eagerly gave up his spot, allowing Jongdae to sing for the whole night.

"Are you sure?" Jongdae asked, "You can sing a few songs." 

"I'm sure, man," the vocalist said, "It's like... _you_. When you sing, the people listen and love. The stage is all yours."

Jongdae thanked him before pulling out a piece of paper and started discussing the setlist. Tonight Jongdae would definitely be playing more than one Sehun inspired song including "The Love of My Life Is the Hottest Babe Alive," "That's My Husband And I'm So In Love," and, apparently a crowd favorite, "I Miss You and I Miss Sitting On Your—” 

"Jongin!" Jongdae said, shaking Jongin from his thoughts, "What are you doing over there alone?"

"Being your manager and keeping you in line," Jongin said. Jongdae jumped onto the couch adjacent to his chair and draped himself over the couch's arm. 

"How do you like it so far?" Jongdae asked, "The atmosphere, the venue, the people?" 

"It's...different," Jongin carefully said. 

"Good different?" Jongdae hopefully asked.

"Not A.S.S. approved different that's for sure," Jongin said. 

"Valid," Jongdae nodded. 

"If Sehun were here, what instrument would he play?" Jongin asked. Jongdae's eyes lit up at the mention of Sehun, and he leaned forward to eagerly respond.

"He can play all sorts of instruments like the bass and guitar, but he prefers the drums, so that's what he usually plays," Jongdae said, "It suits him. He's my heartbeat after all." 

"Why don't you do more jobs with him? Perform more with him?" Jongin asked. He was enabling Jongdae's Sehun chatter, but he didn't mind this time. Admittedly, it was endearing to watch Jongdae ramble on about how he thought the sun and stars, the moon and entire Milky Way all wept knowing that they could never shine as brightly as Sehun did.

"To give people a chance," Jongdae said, "It's too risky if we're seen in the same city together, so we'll each do one job separately, come home, do a job together, come home again for another break, and then repeat the cycle."

There was a pause that lasted not even as long as a clock's tick before Jongdae sighed and stretched. 

"I miss him," he said, dramatically slumping onto the couch.

"Then call him," Jongin said. 

"What, so you can trace his call and Yixing can kill him?" Jongdae said, tracing invisible patterns into the couch's upholstery, "He's safer without me right now. And I don't want to call if he's in the middle of a job." 

Someone knocked on the dressing room door three times before it opened.

"Hey. You're on in five," a stage assistant said when she poked her head into the room. The rest of the band members raised their thumbs up and thanked her before focusing on their instruments and tuning them one last time. Jongdae himself warmed up his voice with a few loud scales and arpeggios for a few moments before turning to Jongin. 

"You're going to watch me sing from behind the stage, right?" Jongdae asked. 

"No," Jongin said, planting his feet firmly on the floor, "I'm going to stay here and mentally prepare for tomorrow's job. If I go through the plan enough times, there's less room for error."

"You can only go over the plan so many times before you realize things never go the way you want," Jongdae shrugged, "You can expect two guards, but you can't anticipate how they'll shoot. Where they'll shoot. Or how you'll react, too. There comes a time when you just have to trust in yourself, luck, and love, and hope for the best. 

"Love?" Jongin asked, "What does love have to do with a job like yours?" 

Jongdae gave him a look. 

"Everything, Jongin," Jongdae said, "What doesn't have to do with love? The only reason why I know I'll come back home after a job is that I love Sehun so much I'd refuse to die because I can't see him in death." 

Jongdae leaned back into the couch, stared up at the cracks in the ceiling, and smiled to himself. 

"What did you do when you realized your love for Sehun was the type of love that made death...how do you put it..." Jongin said, trailing off as soon as he remembered what Jongdae had said. 

"A weakass bitch who can't kill me," Jongdae finished. 

"A weakass...who...can't kill you," Jongin weakly repeated as best as he could. 

"I held onto him," Jongdae nodded, "I kept him in my heart, and I'll never let go no matter what tries to tear us apart. It's as easy as that." 

But it wasn't easy. Not at all. Jongin remembered reading through A.S.S. case reports about the both of them. There had been many narrow attempts at capturing them and killing them. Times when agents had thought that they'd successfully unloaded a clip into their stomachs, pushed them off a high building, or drowned them in the ocean and assumed they had died from their wounds. 

Only for them to show up weeks later with a new target dead. 

Then Jongin thought of Yixing who'd made himself an enemy with a large target on his back in Jongdae's eyes.

"If I can make Yixing stop hunting Sehun," Jongin said, "Can you not kill him?" 

"No," Jongdae shook his head, fingers digging into the seat of the couch, "People like him will take the shot when he has the chance. He'll say one thing and mean another. Say one thing and feel another." 

"I'm like him. Would you kill me, too?" Jongin asked.

Jongdae's gaze flickered away from the ceiling, resting on Jongin's face. Jongin squirmed, looking away as Jongdae continued to stare. 

"You are not like him," Jongdae said at last, "You take bullets instead of letting others bleed. I know you're incapable of killing Sehun. Or anyone at all." 

"You don't know that," Jongin said a little forcefully, "I could kill you after this is done." 

"But you won't," Jongdae said, tilting his chin up to acknowledge the rest of the band beckoning for him to follow them out to the stage. 

Jongin said nothing in response, admitting that Jongdae was right. 

Jongdae stood, stretching before rummaging through a drawer. He lifted several objects out as he searched for whatever he needed, but after seeing Jongin’s face, he laughed.

“I know what this looks like,” Jongdae said, waving a silver box with red wires in the air, “but it’s not a bomb. It’s just a prototype of a new metronome one of the musicians is working on.”

”Sure,” Jongin said, not convinced even after Jongdae placed it back in storage. 

"You coming or what?" Jongdae asked as he pulled out a black mask from the drawers. 

Despite himself, Jongin nodded and stood. As he bent down to tie his shoes, he missed the quick grin Jongdae gave him. 

Jongdae skipped and danced his way through the tunnels, energized by the screams of the crowd waiting for him outside. After climbing the stairs that led to the backstage area, Jongin hung back, not willing to go any further. Outside, the rest of the band had already taken their places, and one announced with a booming voice that they had a very special guest tonight. The crowd roared in response, stomping their feet and screaming their hearts out. 

"That's my cue," Jongdae said, winking at Jongin before he placed the black mask over his face. It only covered the upper half of his face, allowing Jongin to see the curls on Jongdae's lips as he smiled. Jongdae walked backwards, his eyes replaced by glowing, red circles embedded in the mask. 

"Watch me soar," he grinned before turning around and sauntering out.

As he entered the stage, his body was bathed in spotlights. Jongin stayed behind the curtain and watched as Jongdae caught a mic the guitarist tossed him. 

"What the fuck is _up!"_ Jongdae shouted, "Let me see your hands in the air!" 

He gestured for the crowds to lift their hands, and soon, green lights flooded the entire stadium. 

"Tonight," Jongdae said, pointing at the crowd, "I want to see a sea of red lights."

The drummer slammed the bass drum twice to emphasize Jongdae's words, causing the crowd to scream in response. 

"And tonight," Jongdae shouted, "We're all filthy liars. Let's _go_!" 

With that, he launched himself in the air, landing as the guitarists and bassist started playing the dirtiest rift Jongin had ever heard. Jongdae nodded, clapping his hands in the air, waiting for the band to finish their intro before he opened his mouth. And _sang._ Really, it was such a shame Jongdae had decided that the assassin business was more lucrative than music because he could _sing._

Jongdae could sing, and his stage presence was electrifying. Every lyric he belted, every note he held struck the hearts of the audience who danced with stunned hearts and sang with thunderous enthusiasm. Within seconds, their bracelets changed from green to red, and the spotlights soon followed, shifting from white to scarlet. The lights drowned Jongdae's body in neon blood, and the music struck Jongin's heart with crimson lightning. 

Jongin had to admit, but this punk rock music was _good._ Jongdae structured his songs around chord progressions that would've made Bach proud, sang melodies so beautiful that Chopin would've sat up in his grave to weep in approval, and danced his way across his stage in such a dramatic way that Liszt would've sworn that was his beloved great-great-great-great-grand-son. Soon, Jongin was bopping his head along, feeling the music begin to move his body and lift his arms up. 

Jongdae was born to be on stage, and the whole crowd was in his complete command. They sang when he sang, shouted when he shouted, clapped when he clapped. He had the crowd at his fingertips, and if he wanted to, he could have started a riot with the snap of his fingers. Jongdae's stage presence was so charismatic that Jongin soon found himself jumping and clapping, too. And before he knew it, he found himself dancing backstage, closing his eyes as he spun around to the rhythm of the wailing guitars and leapt across the stage feeling the bass's deep vibrations reverberate in his heart. 

Then the song finished with a bang, a last chord strummed with all the guitarist's strength, the bass and toms struck with all of the drummer's might, and the last note sung with all of Jongdae's heart. Jongin opened his eyes at last, finally realizing what he was doing. 

As Jongdae thanked the crowd and began introducing the next song that was, to no one's surprise, inspired by his husband, Jongin fled, tearing down the stairs and running through the tunnels, Jongdae's amplified voice chasing him wherever he ran. The last thing he needed to do was sympathize with Jongdae, sing along with Jongdae, see that there was anything but a cold-blooded killer in Jongdae. 

That way, it'd be easier when Jongin ultimately turned him into A.S.S. 

Jongin slowed down when he entered a dimly lit room, grateful that he'd found the bar. He rushed towards the counter and eagerly sat down, breathing hard as the bartender walked towards him. 

"What can I get you?" she asked. 

Jongin stared at the menu painted on the back wall, running through the list of typical drinks he'd find at any bar. Then he remembered an earlier conversation and wondered if there was a secret menu. 

"I'll have a Bloody Harry please," Jongin announced. 

"You sure?" the bartender asked, picking up a notepad and a pen. 

Jongin nodded. 

"All right," the bartender nodded, leaning in, "Give me the details about the target, and—” 

"Target?" Jongin asked. 

"Don't make me say it out loud," the bartender hissed, "Give me the name of the person you want gone, make a deposit, and consider it done. We'll contact you for the full payment after." 

Jongin blinked.

And _realized._  

"You can request hits here?" Jongin asked. 

"Why the fuck else would you come here instead of watching the concert?" the bartender asked, shooting Jongin a strange look, "This is the place to go if you don't want to wait to file a petition. Now give me a name or scram." 

No wonder A.S.S. had never managed to figure out how normal civilians were ordering hits and hiring assassins. No one ever thought to look towards the music industry, the underground punk scene. 

"Can I have a shot of tequila instead," Jongin said, feeling he deserved a drink. Or two. Or three. He ignored Jongdae's _don't drink! If you get fucked up, who knows what could happen to you_ nagging his mind and watched as the bartender glared at him before pouring him a shot. 

Jongin downed the shot in a second, slamming the glass onto the counter before asking for one more shot. As he waited for the bartender to refill his glass, he listened to Jongdae's voice echoing from the stage and pressed his fingers against his ears.

Three shots later, Jongin found his way back backstage and continued watching. This time, he kept his feet firmly planted on the ground and his arms crossed tightly so he wouldn't be tempted to dance again. But his heart still leapt in his chest as he listened to the music and watched Jongdae. In another life, Jongdae really could have been a musician, a singer of a lead punk band dedicating his life to booming basslines instead of blood, dolce downbeats instead of death. This could've been his whole life instead of a cover, a story to seal his alibi. 

There was something about Jongdae that made Jongin unable to look away, unable to plug his ears again, unable to harden his heart against him. He stared at Jongdae like a child would watch their parent drink deep burgundy wine at dinnertime. Though he knew it was forbidden, he wondered what the first sip of dishonesty would taste like, what getting drunk on a sea of lies would be like.

Then he shook his head and turned his back on that rock god after realizing he was doing that again. Opening his heart to Jongdae again. Giving him the chance to sneak into his sympathies again. 

As the song began building to the climax, supported by the quickening of the beat, and the crescendo into deafening noise, Jongin felt a buzz in his pocket. While listening to Jongdae hold a high note, climbing up several intervals effortlessly, Jongin held his breath as he checked the message. 

_Tell me when and where, and we'll detain him after the job is done._

When Jongdae finally released his high note, letting last echoes of the song fade into the arena's ambience and melt into the screams of the crowd, Jongin texted back a reply.

_I will._

 

 

ϟ ϟ ϟ

 

 

Jongin thought that Jongdae would have crashed after putting on a show like that, needing all the sleep he could get before their job tomorrow. Instead, Jongdae, whose ego was inflated by the crowd, whose heart was pumping with adrenaline, and whose soul was thrumming with music, was still dancing and singing even after they had reached the safehouse. 

As Jongin slumped into a chair, he watched Jongdae snatch a digital gun from the rack and begin firing shots at holographic targets. Joohyun approached, quietly setting down a mug of coffee beside him. She took a sip of her own and hopped onto the stool beside him. After thanking her, Jongin drank deeply, watching Jongdae hit the target each time he fired his gun. 

“Are you like him, too?” he asked, setting down his cup. 

“There’s no one like him,” Joohyun said. Across the room, Jongdae slapped a hand over his eyes and still managed to shoot the target perfectly. “He still knows how to have fun in this line of work.” 

When she saw the question still written across Jongdae’s face, she tried again. 

“No. I’m just tech support,” Joohyun said, “Weapons support. I make sure everyone who leaves for a job comes back home. Or at least…I’ve tried anyways.” 

“One bullet for you,” Jongdae shouted across the room, firing a shot at the target’s chest. 

“Is he always like this?” Jongin asked, gesturing at Jongdae.   

“Someone must have threatened his family,” Joohyun said, pausing to listen to Jongdae shout at the target, “He only releases his anger like this when he thinks anything might happen to the people he loves.” 

“Sehun’s his only family,” Jongin said, “Or does he think of you as family, too?”

“We’re his friends. And you don’t take your casual friends with you when you want to disappear,” Joohyun said, hiding half her expression as she took another long sip of coffee, “when he’s gone, he’ll be gone. And I’ll be alone again. He and Sehun were the only one who bothered to visit after…”

Then she trailed off and drank again. 

“Another bullet for you,” Jongdae said, firing a shot at the target’s heart. 

“Is it hard living on the run?” Jongin asked, “constantly hiding?”

Joohyun lowered her cup and stared at Jongin, dragging her gaze from his face to his wrist.

“Why are you asking all these questions? You’re not one of us, aren’t you?” Joohyun asked, eyes beginning to narrow. 

“And one for you, Mr. Yixing,” Jongdae said, firing a head shot. 

Jongin winced and turned back to Joohyun. 

“I’m only working with him for one job. Then we’re going our separate ways,” Jongin said. 

Him, back to A.S.S hopefully. And Jongdae to a cell preferably. 

“What type of a job?” Joohyun asked, adjusting her glasses as she continued to observe Jongin.   

“I’m helping him with his retirement plan,” Jongin said, resisting the urge to squirm under her watch. 

“What’s in it for you?” Joohyun asked, cutting straight to the point. It was such a shame she worked on the wrong side of things. She would’ve been an excellent interrogator if she weren’t tech support for killers.   

“Jongdae promised to tell me who killed my father,” Jongin said, shifting the mug around his hands, “I need to know.” 

“Oh,” Joohyun said, expression softening, “I’m sorry…But what are you going to do after? Kill whoever did it?”

“Yeah,” Jongin said without thinking. His bracelet flashed red. 

Joohyun smiled before she tapped her bracelet, scrolled through her photo gallery, and projected a hologram of her hugging a young woman. Both were happy, in the middle of laughing, in the middle of loving. 

As Jongin scooted his chair to take a closer look, he stopped breathing, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading.

“If Jongdae has Sehun,” Joohyun said, letting out a shaky breath, “Then I have Seulgi…Well. Had. I guess.”

Jongin swallowed and steadied himself. He knew that woman well.

“What happened?” Jongin asked even though he knew. Oh, he knew.

“She was trying to come home after a job,” Joohyun said, her voice rapidly beginning to diminish in volume, “she worked in Jongdae’s field, so there was always a risk. Always a chance she might not come back." 

Jongin could no longer look at the picture, focusing on Joohyun instead. Tears began to form in her eyes, and something twisted inside Jongin's stomach. He pressed fingers to his abdomen and remained silent, afraid that any word, any look would give him away. 

“A.S.S agents were after her,” she said, her voice barely a whisper now, “A whole team. One was the head of the department. Can you believe that? A whole team of people trying to kill her…I know she’s killed people, done terrible things, but…” 

She shook her head. 

“She was the only person I had,” she said, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. Jongin looked upwards, too afraid to face her now. “And that head of the department gunned her down. What…they couldn’t even let her live so she could at least stand trial? So I’d have a chance to help her escape?” 

She brushed something from her eye and pressed her lips together in an effort to stifle her tears.

“What was she like?” Jongin asked, even though he knew. 

Joohyun’s shoulders began to shake, and Jongin patiently waited for her to collect herself enough to speak. 

“She...” Joohyun hoarsely whispered at last, “Seulgi liked eating strawberries dipped in whipped cream. We used to go to the farmer’s market together every Sunday to buy fresh strawberries.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Jongin said, hand hovering in the air. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but what could he say? What could he do? 

As he stared at Seulgi’s image, his fingers pressed into his abdomen again, a phantom pain striking him. Even today, even now, the angry red scar was still there. 

Seulgi had given him that scar after all. She was the one to raise her gun at Yixing when they had cornered her after a yearlong chase. Jongin was the one who had pushed Yixing out of the way, who had taken the shot. 

He couldn’t remember much after that. 

Just Yixing yelling his name. 

Just falling to the floor, clutching at his stomach. 

Struggling to breathe. 

Struggling to live. 

When he turned his head, he saw a fallen, crumpled body before Yixing rushed to him and clutched his cheeks begging him not to close his eyes. 

But of course he closed his eyes.

Of course he did. 

Jongin wished he was like Jongdae and could say he fought death, struggled successfully kept his eyes open. But honestly, on that day he almost died and there was nothing he could do except be thankful he was able to wake up days later with stitches in his side feeling like an android had thrown him against the wall and stomped on his body.   

“Sorry,” Jongin said again. 

Joohyun shrugged.

“Nothing I can do about it now,” she said, brushing at her cheek again, “What’s done is done, and what’s gone is gone. I’ll see her someday again. I have no doubt. But it’s the waiting that’s the hardest. The living.” 

“Are you going to find the head of A.S.S and kill him?” Jongin asked, wondering if he should be telling Yixing multiple people wanted him to choke. 

“No,” Joohyun said. At least one less person that wanted Yixing dead. “I don’t have the energy. Revenge consumes people, and I don’t want to spend my life chasing monsters when I could be remembering her instead. But I do hope Jongdae gets him, if he gets the chance.” 

“Oh,” Jongin said in a smaller voice, “I see.”

“I’m sure Jongdae can kill whoever took your father away from you. If you want,” Joohyun said, removing her glasses to dab at her eyes. She breathed deeply for a few seconds and composed herself. “All you’d have to do is ask, and I’m sure he’d do it for free since he seems to like you quite a bit.” 

“If you keep files on every assassination ordered and executed, then can you search for my father’s killer?” Jongin asked, “There’s nothing more I want than to know who. I need a name. A face.” 

“We don’t keep files or hold any records of assassinations,” Joohyun said, causing Jongin’s heart to stop. And. Sink. “Imagine if A.S.S raided one of our safe houses. Hundreds…no. Thousands of people would be detained.” 

“Then why did Jongdae tell me you had files about my dad's murder?” Jongin carefully asked, glancing across the room at Jongdae to make sure he hadn’t run off, cheating him out of the information he was owed. 

“I'm not him, so I don't know,” Joohyun shrugged, “But there’s probably a good reason he said that. Or none at all. You know him, Jongin. You know what he’s like.” 

“He _lied,”_ Jongin said, chugging the rest of his coffee before banging his mug down on the middle of the table. He knew that much. “I can’t trust him, and I should’ve never helped him.”

“Trust his promise,” Joohyun said, casting him a look as she lifted his mug up to check if the screen had cracked, “He wouldn’t break it. He’s not that type of person.”

After she saw the look on Jongin’s face, she continued. 

“Really. I mean it, Jongin,” Joohyun insisted, “He may be a liar…a killer…but he’s a loyal man who keeps his word.”

But Jongdae’s word meant nothing to Jongin, so he said nothing after Joohyun stood up and collected their mugs.

“You cracked the screen,” she said as she walked away, “I’ll have to repair it immediately, but I hope you know you’re going to pay for that.”

Jongin waited until she was gone before he leapt off the stool, strode towards Jongdae, and grabbed his shoulder. 

“Joohyun says you don’t keep records of assassinations. Why did you lie to me?” Jongin asked, as he dug his fingers into Jongdae’s shoulder and shook him. 

Jongdae fired three shots, all of them striking the target’s head. Then he adjusted his position and hit the target three times in the middle of the chest. Perfect kill shots.

“You wouldn’t believe my word, so I knew you’d believe it if I said it was in something concrete, like a file,” Jongdae said, lowering the gun and turning off the holographic targets before finally facing Jongdae.

“Do you even know who did it at _all_?” Jongin raised his voice. He stared at the liar in front of him and wondered why he even bothered asking for the truth. 

Jongdae quirked the side of his mouth, letting out a deep sigh before he answered.   

“The person who killed your dad is terrifying. Dangerous. Tough. Tougher than anything you’ve seen at A.S.S. You might get hurt if you go after them,” Jongdae said, folding his arms across his chest. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, never looking away from Jongin once.   

“So you do know them. That’s the truth, right?” Jongin said, feeling slightly faint. If Jongdae wasn’t lying, then the killer was still walking free, probably murdering other innocent civilians and ripping families apart.   

“Look. I’ll tell you after everything’s done. But what will you do then?” Jongdae asked running a hand through his hair. After such a long night, the exhaustion finally hit him, fatigue causing his shoulders to slump. “Don’t throw your life away for revenge.” 

“You’ll throw your life away for Sehun if you kill Yixing,” Jongin countered. Everything Jongdae said contradicted what he really did, and every truth he told was fragmented and tainted with his previous lies. 

“I won’t have a life if Sehun’s not in it,” Jongdae said, “There’s no point to anything if he’s not there. Do you understand?” 

“No,” Jongin firmly said. He wondered where the polite, timid dancer he used to be from his college-days had gone. And when he had become like this. “If you get to kill people who even threaten Sehun, then I get to kill whoever killed my dad.” 

“You will?” Jongdae asked. 

Jongin blinked. He hadn’t actually thought of what to do after discovering the murderer’s identity. His biggest struggle had been finding out that secret after all. 

“Yeah. I’ll kill whoever killed my dad,” Jongin said after a short pause. The fluster in his heart manifested in a red buzz. 

Jongdae smiled.

“Why don’t you sleep? We have a long day tomorrow,” he said, pointing upstairs where the guest bedrooms were located. 

“Yeah,” Jongin said, letting out a long exhale, “At this rate, it might be my last.” 

“Don’t _say that_ ,” Jongdae said, matching the volume of Jongin’s voice as his eyes widened, “If you love someone, then you’ll come back to them. Remember that. Tomorrow won’t be your last, Jongin. You still have people who love you.” 

“Life doesn’t work like that, Jongdae,” Jongin said, hugging his shoulders and looking away. “I got shot, and I survived. I might not be lucky enough to pull through like that again.” 

“You’re with me,” Jongdae said, reaching out to grasp Jongin’s shoulder, “Does it look like anything could kill me? Does it look like I’d let anything kill you?” 

Yes. A few bullets piercing his skull and his chest should do it effortlessly.

But when Jongin stared at Jongdae and found in his expression the confidence of a god who didn’t believe in death, a human who had more heart than fear, and a husband who loved more than he lied, all Jongin could say was this.

“No,” he answered, “Not at all.”

The green light of his wrist refused to change.

 

ϟ ϟ ϟ

 

The next day, Jongdae gently woke Jongin up, shaking his shoulders and luring him out of bed with the promise of coffee and hot breakfast. After taking ten minutes to wake up and sleepily eat something warm Jongdae shoved in his mouth, Jongin got dressed, only half-aware of the gun Jongdae gave him. Early mornings really weren’t for him. Waking up, nowadays, really wasn’t for him. 

Jongdae hummed a song as he drove him towards the building. Jongin recognized this one from the concert as ‘Shut The Fuck Up And Tell Me My Husband Isn’t The Best One More Time I Double Dare You.’ Another crowd favorite that had every person with ears jumping and yelling once the first chord struck.

After parking as if they were actually there to work, they repeated their routine from recon, snagging two unlucky facility workers, knocking them out, and stealing their jackets. The android at the entrance’s checkpoint recognized them from yesterday, greeting them with a robotic wave of their hand. Jongin continued to pretend he had lost his voice, so Jongdae smoothly lied for the both of them and ushered them in. 

“All right,” Joohyun said through their comms after they headed for the cleaning closet to pick up the large trash bins, “From the cams, the Director stepped into the office fifteen minutes ago. The flash drive is in his safe. But we have a problem.”

“What’s that?” Jongin asked, taking deep breaths to prepare himself for the task ahead. Recon was one thing. Stealing the flash drive was another.

“You have an hour and a half before the system restore on the androids and servers,” Joohyun said, “They uploaded your information into the servers and androids again, which means you have to place the virus I created in the servers and destroy the flash drive right before the update.”

“What happens if we miss the update?” Jongdae asked.

“Then your existing information will be saved, and they’ll just make another physical copy of your flash drive,” Joohyun said, “Which starts the cycle all over again.”

“We can do it,” Jongdae said, opening the cleaning closet and pulling out the trash bin all by himself, “It’s simple.” 

“Be careful, Jongdae,” Joohyun, “You never know what can go wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah…No problem,” Jongdae said, whistling a cheery tune as Jongin helped push the bin beside him. 

Making their way through the ground floor and up the elevator wasn’t the problem. Facing the android guards that held the elevator open for them wasn’t the problem.

Encountering the same human guard was. 

“Hey,” Jongdae said as soon as they approached the guard, “Good to see you again.”

The guard nodded in his direction before shifting his attention to Jongin.

“You again, too,” he said, staring at Jongin long and hard. Jongin looked anywhere but the guard and hoped he’d trust their green bracelets and let them leave. “Do you talk or something? You never speak.” 

“He’s shy,” Jongdae said, tightening his grasp on the trash bin’s handle.

“He can talk for himself,” the guard said, resting his hand on the hilt of his gun, “What’s your name? Why are you here?” 

“I…” Jongin said. He took too long to answer, causing the guard to interrupt the feeble excuse he had been preparing to say.

“Alright,” the guard said, clucking his tongue, “I’ve had enough. You look really shifty.”

“Like I said,” Jongdae said, hands slipping from the handle, “He’s just shy.” 

“I’m going to have to take you in,” the security guard said, reaching for his walkie talkie, “Security’s been tightened, so we can’t take any chances.” 

But before he could utter a word more, Jongdae had leapt forward and swung at the guard, sending him slumping against the floor. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” Jongin shouted, grabbing Jongdae’s arm as soon as he saw the gun. 

“God,” Joohyun said, “I knew it. I expected something to go wrong, but I didn’t expect it to happen this early. Just make sure the androids don’t see anything, and—” 

“Too late,” Jongdae said, looking backwards to find the androids from the elevator steadily advancing. He kicked at the guard’s head, sending him into unconsciousness before running down the bridge, beckoning Jongin to follow. 

“Alright the androids tried setting off the alarms, but I overrode the command,” Joohyun said.

“So we’re all good?” Jongin said, struggling to breathe as he tore down the bridge as if death itself was chasing him. 

“Oh, sweetie no,” Joohyun dryly said, “I don’t have control over what the androids do, and I’m sure they’ve already sent out messages to each other about two intruders on the bridge. Great job.” 

Jongin bit back a _shut up_ and pumped his arms harder, lifted his feet up further. Once they reached the end of the bridge, Jongdae stopped him and reminded him to take out his gun. 

“If they’ve sent out messages to each other,” Jongin said, reluctantly pulling the gun out and flipping the safety off. Better the androids than him. “That means that they’ll shoot on sight, right?” 

“No, they’re here to escort us to a nice breakfast with ice cream,” Jongdae said, pressing his back to the wall as they crept to the hallway. The hallways offered no cover, so it was better to take their time rather than run straight into the path of some bloodthirsty androids.   

“Of course they’ll fucking shoot you, Jongin,” Joohyun added, “You do know how to shoot, right? Jongdae can’t carry your weight forever. Think of his poor spine.” 

“If I have to carry the entire music industry on my back every time I walk on stage,” Jongdae said, raising a hand to stop Jongin as they reached the end of the hall, “Then I have enough strength to carry Jongin for however long he needs, too.”

Jongin blinked, watched Jongdae check both directions, only beckoning him to follow after he determined it was safe enough. 

“Thanks Jongdae,” he finally said. He walked behind Jongdae, so he couldn’t quite see how Jongdae’s expression had shifted.

“Anytime,” Jongdae said, raising a peace sign in the air. 

Jongin had begun to relax, almost feeling his heart rate return to only slightly above resting before Jongdae shouted. 

“Get down,” he bellowed. Before Jongin had time to react, Jongdae fired his gun two times. Jongin lifted his hands from his head, finding two androids falling to the floor with bullets in their heads. 

“Three incoming in front of you,” Joohyun reported, “Ten behind and twenty seconds away.” 

“Ten?” Jongin shouted, “ _Ten?_ ” 

“Ten is nothing,” Jongdae said, creeping forwards with his gun raised, “But I’d rather face three than ten.” 

“I’d rather face none,” Jongin insisted, looking behind him. 

“You won’t have to face any,” Jongdae said, “I’ll handle it.”

“Who even are you, Jongin?” Joohyun asked, “Jongdae only cares about Sehun. Why would he do this for you?”

“I’m working the job with him,” Jongin said, though right now, it was Jongdae who was clearly doing all the work, “so the longer he keeps me alive, the longer he has my help.” 

 _Yeah. That’s exactly it_ was Jongdae’s only answer. The only thing he said before he fired his gun four more times, sending three androids crumpling to the ground. Jongin looked away, holding his breath as he stepped over the android’s bodies. For robots, they looked too human. Whoever had designed them had gone too far to make them look as lifelike as possible. The red oil that dripped out of their bodies looked much too similar to real blood. 

“There’s one android running straight at you,” Joohyun said, speaking more urgently, “This one moves differently than the others. I would’ve mistaken them for a human, but…I don’t know. They can’t be human.” 

Out of nowhere, the android burst into the hallway, shooting as soon as they saw Jongdae and Jongin. It was only Jongdae’s natural instinct and Jongin’s A.S.S. training that saved them from being shot. Jongin finally decided to make himself useful by firing at the android, not liking how the android seemed to easily avoid the shots. His aim had either worsened during his break, or this android was a newer, deadlier model he hadn’t seen before.

Using Jongin’s fire as cover, Jongdae jumped off the floor, breaking into a sprint. He kicked the wall to give him enough momentum to attack the android from the air. The two of them fell to the floor, wrestling each other, throwing punches and kicks. Jongin scrambled to his feet, rushing over and pointing his gun at the android. But he refrained from taking the shot, too afraid he’d accidentally shoot Jongdae. 

Then he remembered the ten androids approaching from behind and stood his ground, ignoring his nerves as he prepared to give Jongdae some cover for as long as he could. This was no different than some A.S.S. missions Jongin had went on with Yixing. But the only difference now was that he was more afraid that he had been before in the past. Tasting death once and only barely escaping its kiss was enough to strike fear into his heart every time he heard a gunshot. 

“Options, Joohyun,” Jongdae shouted, ducking the android’s blows, “This one fights too well, and Jongin won’t be able to handle the ten coming.” 

“Twenty,” Joohyun corrected, “There’s twenty. They’ve congregated together and are marching your way.” 

Jongin wanted nothing more than to drop straight into the floor and sleep his problems away, but if he did so, he’d never wake up. Instead, he pressed a hand over his mouth and screamed, hoping he managed to muffle most of the noise.  

“Are you done, Jongin? You know I can here you,” Joohyun flatly said, “The android department is about to shut for maintenance, so your best bet is to hide there while it’s on lockdown. I’ll access the situation and direct after the doors unlock.”   

Jongin focused and tried to act more like Jongin, A.S.S. agent, rather than Jongin, weak office worker who had no idea to shoot his gun. He quickly remembered the long hours he and Yixing used to spend at the shooting range, perfecting their technique in time for A.S.S. entrance exams and A.S.S. evaluations.

After timing his shot right, he fired at the android’s leg twice, grabbed Jongdae, and dragged him down the hallway, following Joohyun’s directions.   

“Twenty seconds until the doors close,” Joohyun said. She’d been calm before, composed before, but now, he heard a slight tremble in her voice. 

“That’s plenty of fucking time,” Jongdae said, looking behind him and shooting at whatever was behind them three times. They turned the corner, narrowly missing a hailstorm of bullets striking the wall behind them. 

“Two lefts and a right,” Joohyun said. Jongin wondered if she was watching the footage between her fingers. If he were her, he’d close his eyes completely and shut the screens off for the sake of his own health and wellbeing. 

“There,” Jongdae said, pointing straight ahead. 

Motionless androids stood behind an open door that was slowly sliding shut. 

“You want us to go _there_?” Jongin shouted, “With more androids?” 

“Would you rather face the deactivated ones or the activated ones?” Joohyun asked.

Jongin shut his mouth and ran. 

Jongdae pulled ahead, encouraging him to follow and faster. He ran inside the room first, waiting for Jongin to follow. 

Jongin was just about to leap inside the room before something barreled into him and pinned him against the floor. He groaned, turning his head to see the door two feet from closing and Jongdae’s feet still by the doorframe. After finally looking up, he twisted his head, narrowly missing a jab to the head that would’ve left a nasty dent in his skull. 

Jongdae could have easily ducked into the android department and waited as the door closed, locking him safely away from the threats outside. Jongin wouldn’t have blamed him if he did, as there was a good chance he would’ve done so himself if he were in that position. 

But instead, Jongdae rushed back out the door, fired five shots into the android’s torso and pushed their body off of Jongin’s. Letting out a long swear, he dragged Jongin towards the door, positioning him sideways to squeeze through. Only after did Jongin stumble into the room did Jongdae finally force himself through the narrow safe space. The two of them collapsed by the floor, panting hard, hearing bullets strike the closed door. 

“You really cut it close all the fucking time don’t you,” Joohyun said, letting out a deep breath, “It’s honestly a miracle you still have all your limbs, Jongdae.” 

“As long as I have my heart, it’s all good,” Jongdae laughed, pounding his chest twice with a fist. 

As Jongin slumped against the floor, he wanted to ask Jongdae why he had saved him. Why he had risked his life and came back to pull him through at the last minute. 

But he knew better.

Because the job wasn’t finished.

“If I were you, I’d start moving towards the back exit,” Joohyun said, “Nearly thirty androids are right outside.” 

Jongin leapt to his feet as soon as he heard incessant pounding on the door. He hesitated before offering his hand to Jongdae, but it was the least he could do after Jongdae saved his life. Jongdae smiled, taking Jongin’s hand, and allowing Jongin to help him up. 

As they passed through the android department, Jongin shuddered, trying his best not to stare. 

“They’re so lifelike,” Jongin said, walking a little faster. The deactivated androids were stored in glass boxes, dark red wires were hooked up to their arms, and green wires to their heads. 

“You don’t think they could’ve left their eyes closed?” Jongdae said, “They really look like us. Humans.” As chaotic as ever, he approached an android, banged on the glass, and waited for something to happen.

“Let’s _go_ ,” Jongin said, pushing Jongdae towards the exit before he’d accidentally activate the whole department. 

“I’ve never seen such a cursed object in my whole entire life,” Jongdae said, looking back at the androids. Jongin placed a hand on Jongdae’s head, twisted it forwards, and kept walking. 

At the end of the department, Joohyun tried hacking into the system to attempt an early unlock of the door. But no matter what she typed and no matter how hard Jongdae slammed himself against the door, the door remained sealed until the end of maintenance. 

“Give me a moment,” Joohyun said, “I’ll break you out in no time.”

But no time dragged onto minutes, into time that felt like an eternity. Giving up, Jongin sat down on the floor, resting his back against the wall. Jongdae sat adjacent to him after trying one last time to break down the door. They waited in silence for at least a minute before Jongdae opened his mouth to talk about Sehun again, lifting his left hand in the air to fondly gaze at his ring. From here, he seemed like an average person Jongin might walk past on the streets. Just a normal civilian. Just a devoted husband who affectionately talked about the love of his life all the time. 

Not a deadly killer. 

Not at all. 

So since they had time to kill and Jongin had bravery to burn, he asked.

“Who was your first kill?” Jongin asked out of nowhere, interrupting the story of how Sehun had surprised Jongdae last year for his birthday by hiring ten planes to drop money and flowers from the sky. “Do you remember them? Do you remember all of them?”

Jongdae trailed off, tracing the floor with a finger in silence. After a while, he spoke.

“Maybe I don’t remember all my kills,” Jongdae admitted, “It’s impossible. I won’t remember every guard I killed to survive. The face of every job. But I do remember the first time I killed.”

“Who?” Jongin said. 

“Someone who really deserved it,” Jongdae said, “I felt so bad for the kid that requested the hit that I took the job for free. Free jobs get you paid in exposure, right?” 

“You’re lying,” Jongin guessed. 

“No, I’m not,” Jongdae shook his head.

“Yes you are,” Jongin firmly said, remembering Jongdae’s track record with honesty. 

Jongdae cracked a smile, one he failed to hide, and finally laughed. 

“You’re catching on, Jongin,” he grinned.

“Is there any time you’re actually honest?” Jongin exasperatedly said.

“When I talk about family,” Jongdae said, scooting closer to Jongin as he spoke, “Sehun. I never lie to him, and I never lie about him.” 

Maybe Jongin couldn’t trust Jongdae’s words, but he could trust his heart at least. 

“So why can’t you say who was your first kill?” Jongin said, pushing the question further. He wanted to understand Jongdae, comprehend why he did what he did. When he started all of this. “Was it an innocent person? Someone who didn’t deserve it?” 

“No, he wasn’t innocent,” Jongdae said, staring down the hall, “And he most definitely deserved it.” 

“Then who?” Jongin asked. 

“My dad,” Jongdae said, the side of his lips quirking up. But there was nothing funny about the situation, nothing amusing about the past at all. 

Whatever response Jongin could have mustered died in his throat, and he only stared. He couldn’t imagine laying a hand on anyone, much less his own family. Throughout his whole childhood, he so desperately wanted a father to pick him up from school, to tell him he was proud of him, to attend his ballet concerts and watch him soar across the stage with pride. 

And here was Jongdae who killed his own. 

“You said you had a kind dad,” Jongdae said, his voice slightly softening, “But I wasn’t so lucky.” 

Jongin scooted closer to listen, brushing his leg against Jongdae’s. 

“He wasn’t home often,” Jongdae admitted, “But when he was, he was drunk. And when he was drunk, he liked hitting my mom. Sometimes me, too, but my mom took most of it.” 

Jongin’s own father wasn’t home often either, or at least that’s what he vaguely remembered. But at least he had taken the time to pick Jongin up, swing him through the air, and buy him ice cream when he wasn’t absent. And his parents always got along well, too, nothing like the horrors of Jongdae’s childhood. Jongin remembered his mother always tucking him into bed before spending the night with his father downstairs talking. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jongin said, hand hovering in the air before he committed and squeezed Jongdae’s hand. 

“It’s too late for that,” Jongdae wryly said, finally looking at Jongin. There was something hallow, something haunted in Jongdae’s expression that squeezed Jongin’s heart and made him want to look away. But Jongin steadily continued listening to Jongdae, giving him all his attention because he knew what it was like to empty his heart and feel like no one was there to listen.   

“I filed a petition, you know,” Jongdae said, lightly banging the back of his head against the wall two times before Jongin gently reached out to stop him. Jongdae sighed and stilled, stretching before he continued.

“I really did file a petition,” Jongdae repeated, “Just like the government and you people wanted. I filed a petition listing every single, justified reason for my dad’s extermination. And you know what the government said? You know what the fuckers in charge of his petition said?” 

“What?” Jongin asked. 

“It’ll be processed in a few years. _Years_ ,” Jongdae said, “How could you take one look at that case file and not immediately send him off to die?” 

“Well,” Jongin said, trying to explain what he had been taught at his D.O.U.C.H.E. job training, “The government hopes that by giving time for processing, the petitioner can reflect and change their mind before it’s too late. Grudges fade over time, so people do cancel their petitions.”

“This isn’t a grudge,” Jongdae cut him off, raising his voice as he slammed his right hand onto the floor, “This was abuse, and I gave everything a chance before I had no choice.”

“What about our mother?” Jongin asked, “Couldn’t she have taken you and left?” 

“She talked about it,” Jongdae said, closing his eyes. A bitter smile stretched across his lips, and he breathed, small wrinkles marring his expression as he remembered. “She was about to try. We even packed our bags, and we were about to leave. She gave me money to buy some food at the store so we’d have something to eat while we ran.”

“And then what happened?” Jongin softly asked, not liking how Jongdae’s eyebrows knitted up. 

“When I came back, I found her on the floor,” he said, his voice barely a whisper now, “Blood. Everywhere.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Jongin said, not knowing what else he could say, what else there was to say. He picked up Jongdae’s hand and clasped it.

Jongdae stared at the lights above them, swallowed hard, and continued to speak. 

“I know who did it,” he hoarsely said, “I know who fucking did it. There was only one cold-hearted bastard cruel enough to kill someone kind like my mother.”

“So did the petition get processed faster?” Jongin asked, though he knew that must’ve not been true. 

“Of course not,” Jongdae laughed, closing his eyes once again, “Of course not…The police questioned my father, but because he was drunk, he really couldn’t remember doing it. They believed his bracelet more than they believed what was inside his heart.” 

“And they didn’t believe you,” Jongin said, “Even when you witnessed what he was capable of.”

“Exactly,” Jongdae said, taking a shuddering breath, “They didn’t believe me because I was only a kid. Both my bracelet and my father’s bracelet were green, but they took his words over mine.” 

He finally opened his eyes and stared at Jongin hard.

“So what the fuck is the point of telling the truth if no one believes you?” he asked, gripping Jongin’s hand so tightly that Jongin was sure he was five seconds away from losing circulation.

Jongin remained silent, knowing exactly where the rest of this would lead.

“I’m telling you, when I did what I did, it was my last resort. Everything failed me, so I did it myself,” Jongdae said, spitting fire as he violently gesticulated with his free hand. “One night when he was stumbling out of a shady bar reeking of alcohol and hate, I followed him with a knife in my hand, pulled him into an alleyway away from any cameras, any witnesses. And I killed him. I killed him because I was tired of living with bruises, exhausted of flinching every time he raised his voice. And because he took my mother away from me.”

They sat in silence, hands clasped, hearts aching. Perhaps Jongdae could have been a full time musician if his father was kinder. Jongin couldn’t remember much about his father, but he wondered what type of a person he would’ve been if he had been there for him. 

There were so many things to say and nothing at all, but Jongin finally spoke, choosing his next words carefully. 

“But you still get bruises,” he said, pointing at Jongdae’s body, “from your job.” 

“Oh yeah?” Jongdae said, pretending to examine his arms. Just like that, Jongdae snapped back to his usual self, or at least the self he showed Jongin. The light was back in his eyes, and the life was back in his voice as if nothing had happened at all. “You should see the marks Sehun leaves on my neck, actually. He really—” 

“Okay,” Jongin muttered, “ _Okay_.” 

“He’s my _favorite_ ,” Jongdae sighed. 

“Yes,” Jongin tiredly played along, “I know.”

“Did you know he loves chocolate?” Jongdae asked, “He’s always had a sweet tooth, and whenever I come back from jobs, I pick up a box of chocolate for him. You should see the way his face lights up every time he opens the box…what the fuck. I _love_ him. “ 

"How did you meet?" Jongin hesitantly asked, unsure why he was willingly enabling Jongdae to chatter on about Sehun. 

"Oh my  _god,_ " Jongdae said. If possible, the curls on his lips raised up even higher. "You wouldn't even believe it...So I'd just come back from a hard job...a real nasty job, and I drag myself to this bar inside a concert hall, half-bleeding, half-dead. I don't even know how I could even stand, much less walk."

"Really," Jongin said, unsurprised at all that Jongdae could withstand any severe injury and still remain standing. "I would've never guessed."

Jongdae shoved him playfully before continuing. 

"I walk up to the bar, but before I can order some water with a hint of lime, this big, ugly guy stands up and grabs me by the front of my blood-soaked shirt. And he starts yelling at me and threatening me for stealing his job. I mean? First of all, I don't steal jobs. Second of all, I get offered jobs, so if someone offered me his job, that means I'm better than him."

"When does Sehun show up?" Jongin said, wanting to put himself out of his misery as soon as possible. 

"Be patient," Jongdae pouted, "So you know how I have this tendency...to talk a lot."

"No, I didn't know that," Jongin said, wondering if the door would open any time soon. 

"...Anyways, not to be myself, but once that man started threatening me, all I did was open my mouth and start talking back," Jongdae said. 

"You were bleeding out, and your first instinct was to talk back?" Jongin asked. 

"Hey, I know it wasn't the wisest thing to do, but," Jongdae shrugged, "And after ten seconds of that, I was sure he was going to either stab me, shoot me, or set me on fire with the lighter the bartender was using to make a fireball shot...But then this tall, handsome boy steps up right next to me and goes... _Is this man bothering you?"_

"Sehun?" Jongin guessed. 

Jongdae nodded, unable to stop grinning as he continued to speak. 

"I don't even remember responding because I was too busy staring at him with the biggest hearts in my eyes," Jongdae sighed, "I think the man started threatening me again and telling Sehun to stay out of it, but without saying another word, Sehun slams his head into the bar, knocking him unconscious in one go...And after that, he turned, looked at me like _that_ and asked if I was okay. And that's it. That's really it. We talked the rest of the night, and I never let him go after that."

Jongdae let out another long sigh, clasping his hands together as Sehun lingered in his thoughts. 

"I love him," Jongdae sweetly said, "Did you know that?"

“No,” Jongin flatly said, “I didn’t know that…Would you do anything for him?”

“Absolutely,” Jongdae nodded, “Name it and it’s done.”

“Would you die for him?” Jongin said, watching Jongdae’s expression carefully.

Jongdae met his gaze and threw back his head and laughed. After he quieted and noticed Jongin’s expression, he stopped.

“Oh,” Jongdae blinked, “You were serious? Dying’s overrated, Jongin. No, I wouldn’t because it doesn’t mean anything.”

It was Jongin’s turn to feel the urge to laugh. 

“You know how many things are trying to kill us? Have you ever tried to crawl your way out of a building about to explode with three bullets in your stomach?” Jongdae asked, not waiting for Jongin to answer before he continued, “It’s too fucking easy to die. But the thing that keeps me going, the thing that makes me flip death off every time it tries to lay one uglyass hand on me is love. _Sehun_ …So no. I wouldn’t die for him. I’d live for him.”

There was really nothing else in Jongdae’s heart at any time other than Sehun, Sehun, _Sehun._

“For Sehun, I will survive ten stab wounds and crawl my way back home to sleep in his arms. For Sehun, I will escape a bomb with three seconds left because it would make him so sad if I didn’t come back. For Sehun, I will live just as he lives for me, and there is not a single fucking thing death can do to tear us apart.”

He finished speaking with a wide smile, slipping his hand out of Jongin’s so he could stare at his wedding ring again. Silver band, sparkling ruby in the center.

“I want to meet him,” Jongin said at last, “I want to meet the person who you say puts the sun to shame, who makes you believe death is only a story parents tell their children at night to scare them to sleep.  

“When this is all over, maybe he can meet us at the safe house,” Jongdae nodded, “I think you’ll love him. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t.”

“Doesn’t everyone at A.S.S. hate him,” Joohyun finally spoke, causing Jongin to start. He’d forgotten she’d been there, listening silently the entire.  

“That’s because A.S.S. is full of bitter motherfuckers who don't know what love is,” Jongdae shook his head, “No offense, Jongin.”

Jongin liked to think he knew what love was, but his definition was much different than Yixing’s, so maybe that’s why it was better for them to part. Before Jongin could ask Jongdae what he should do if Yixing was someone he’d die for, Joohyun interrupted them again.

“If you’re done pouring out your heart and talking,” she said, “I’ve managed to unlock the doors. The androids on this side don’t seem to have received the alert, so if you act normal, you’ll be fine.” 

“Let’s go,” Jongdae said, leaping to his feet, “We’ve already lost of a lot of time.” 

He offered a hand out to Jongin who hesitated before taking it. After Jongdae helped him up, Jongin brushed himself off, and watched as Jongdae slowly slid the door open. They poked their heads out, looking both ways before leaving the android department behind.

“Where’s the Director?” Jongdae asked as they skirted around a corner and took a detour after Joohyun warned them about five incoming androids. 

“That’s odd. He was two floors down a minute ago, but now he’s disappeared,” Joohyun said. 

“Is he in his office? On this floor?” Jongin asked, pressing his hands into the wall. Hallways were the worst place to fight without cover.

“No?” Joohyun said, “He…disappeared.”

“Well,” Jongdae said, reloading his gun before concealing it again, “We don’t have time to worry about where he is, so if you say he’s not here, then let’s go.” 

Jongin was grateful for Joohyun’s help, as if she were not here, every single android within their proximity would have switched to kill mode, red eyes flashing as they’d stop at nothing to gun down. Within minutes, the two of them had arrived at the Director’s office again. 

“This is too easy,” Jongin said, keeping guard as Jongdae picked the locks, “I can’t believe…this is all it takes. A hacker and an assassin.”

“And a fool to keep guard,” Joohyun said. 

“Thanks,” Jongin muttered. 

“He’s doing great,” Jongdae said, straightening up as he opened the door and strode inside. 

“Alright,” Jongdae said, jumping up and down as the bookshelves parted to reveal the safe, “Give me three minutes. Five minutes tops.” 

Jongin turned around, pointing his gun at the door, waiting for anyone to come. They were five minutes away from completing this mission, which meant five minutes away from Jongin learning the truth. Five minutes away from turning Jongdae into Yixing. 

“Joohyun,” Jongin said, finding any excuse to shift her attention away from them, “Can you check where the Director is one more time? It isn’t like him to disappear if he has work. Something must be wrong.” 

“How would you know?” Joohyun said, causing Jongin to realize his mistake. But she didn’t question him further, only promised that she would check the rest of the cams again. 

Jongin had maybe a three second window to act, so while Jongdae was focusing on the safe, he pulled out his phone and sent Yixing a quick message. 

_Almost done. I’ll update with Jongdae’s location in 1 hour._

He hesitated before he sent another message. 

_Please don’t kill him._

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and tried not to look guilty as he continued pointing the gun at the door.

“He’s still not here,” Joohyun said after a moment, “Maybe he’s planning something.”

“Then we better leave,” Jongin said, “If we—”

“Got it!” Jongdae said, successfully swinging the safe open. 

“Unbelievable,” Joohyun said, “We could’ve robbed jewelers and museums and—”

“And still make less than what we make now,” Jongdae said, stepping into the safe. Jongin followed, marveling at the rows and rows of flash drives. Nothing was placed by alphabetical order, or any order Jongin recognized. 

“Mine is here somewhere,” Jongdae starting on the top row as he picked the first five and looked through them.

“Make yourself actually useful and start looking,” Joohyun said. 

“Right,” Jongin nodded, taking the shelf beside Jongdae and beginning to look through the flash drives. He didn’t understand every label, every term used. One of them looked familiar, though the numbers were different. 

AND_BACKUP_Q4401

He looked around the room, saw no cameras, and pocketed the flash drive. Maybe it’d come in handy some other time. 

“Any luck?” Jongdae asked. 

“No,” Jongin said, rummaging through a pile of financial data drives, “You?” 

“No,” Jongdae said, “But it’s here…I can feel it. We’re so close.”

Just as Jongdae finished speaking, Jongin picked up a flash drive and read the label at least five times before he realized. Whatever happened next would be entirely his fault no matter what he chose. He could give it to Jongdae and help a killer walk free. He could keep it and rescue his career from disgrace.

“Sehun’s going to be so happy after I tell him we’re finally free,” Jongdae said as he eagerly tore through the pile, quickly checking each flash drive for his name. 

“Are you going to start a family right away?” Jongin asked, concealing the flash drive in the palm of his hand. 

“I don’t know,” Jongdae said, “I mean…so much thought has to go through that. We’ve picked a house and a city, but what if they don’t have the best schools around there? The best opportunities? We want to give our future kid the best, you know. We’ll take our time and adopt when we feel like we’re ready.” 

“You’re still young,” Jongin said, pretending to look through a couple of flash drives in case Joohyun could somehow see through the safe, “You have time.” 

“Sehun’s basically a baby sometimes,” Jongdae laughed, slamming a rejected flash drive back in place before he picked up the next one, “Can you imagine he’ll be a dad in maybe a year or two? Can you imagine _I’ll_ be a dad, too?”

“Are you scared?” Jongin asked, putting back a flash drive labeled _EXPENSE_REPORTS._

“Yeah,” Jongdae said, “Of course I am. I want to be a good dad…give them everything I never had. If you take away everything, Sehun and I are just all heart in the end. All love. We’d like to share it with someone.” 

“But you can’t do that without this flash drive,” Jongin said, “Without escaping from A.S.S.”

“No,” Jongdae sighed, continuing to scan through the flash drives, “We can’t.”

Jongin turned to face Jongdae, watching him struggle through a few more rows of flash drives before he tapped Jongdae’s shoulder.

“Here. I found it,” he said, opening his hand to reveal the flash drive resting in the center of his palm, “I think…you’ll be a great dad. The best dad.”

Jongdae’s eyes widened, and he threw himself at Jongin, hugging him so tightly they began to sway. Jongin patted Jongdae’s back, feeling uneasy as he heard Jongdae thank him over and over again. There was a time and place to help Yixing detain him, but it wouldn’t be here. It wouldn’t be now.

Doing it outside this building would at least enable Jongdae a chance to fight back fairly.

Jongdae then placed the flash drive on the floor, aimed his gun, and fired. Jongin pressed his hands over his ears too late, still startled by the loud bang. Jongdae stomped on the fragments of the flash drive, crushing whatever remained under his foot.  

“That felt good,” Jongdae said. 

“Don’t feel too good yet,” Joohyun ordered, “You still need to wipe the system with the virus so they won’t be able to recreate another flash drive.

“How? Do we do that?” Jongin asked, watching Jongdae scoop up the shards and dust on the floor and dumping them into the nearest trash can.

“I gave Jongdae a flash drive. Just stab it through the neck of any android, and you’ll be fine. There’s a USB drive on their upper vertebrae around the base of their neck. I can access all their systems from there.”

“Let’s hunt an android, shall we?” Jongdae smiled, clearly in high spirits.

After leaving the office and safe behind, Jongdae sauntered in the middle of the hallway instead of hugging the wall like Jongin preferred. They didn’t approach large groups of androids, preferring to hunt androids in groups of two or three.

“There,” Jongdae whispered, pointing around the corner where two androids guarded an elevator, “We need to isolate one and jam this into their neck.”

He showed Jongin the flash drive again and passed it to him.  

“I’ll wrestle them to the floor, and you slam it in,” Jongdae said, “That doesn’t sound so hard does it?”

“How do we isolate one?” Jongin asked, taking the USB and uncapping it.

“Watch this,” Jongdae said, turning the corner and walking towards the androids, “Follow my lead.”

That’s what Jongin had been doing this time, so he had no complaints as he silently shadowed Jongdae. 

“Hello,” Jongdae said, stopping in front of the androids. He reached over, pressed the up arrow, and stepped back.

“Hello,” one android answered, eyes trained on Jongdae’s face, “How may we assist you?”

“I have a question,” Jongdae said, tiptoeing to look behind the androids.

“How may we assist you?” the android repeated themselves, “What is your purpose here?”

“Just wondering,” Jongdae said, “How thick is your armor?” 

The androids tilted their heads and shared a look before turning back to Jongdae.

“It is exactly 1.27 centimeters thick,” the other android responded, “and it is designed to allow flexible movement while allowing for maximum protection from bullets, knives, and other various weapons.”

“Cool,” Jongdae said, positioning his hand, “Then how come it’s absolutely fucking useless against my bullets?”

“I do not understand,” both androids said, “What bullets?” 

“These ones,” Jongdae said. Before Jongin could blink, Jongdae pushed an android against the wall, pulled out his gun, and shot the android’s torso three times.

But in the time it took for Jongdae to deactivate that android, Jongin found himself at the mercy of the other android, who had responded to the threat in record time. Their eyes flashed red, immediately reaching for their gun. Jongin, with adrenaline pricking his heart, managed to act faster and kicked the gun out of the android’s hands. 

The android grabbed Jongin’s leg, using it to pull Jongin closer before it grabbed his head. 

“Comms detected,” the android said. 

“Hurry,” Joohyun said, “You’ve got a minute before the sy—”

Her voice crackled out as the android pulled the comms from Jongin’s ear and smashed it between their fingers. Jongin could only kick his legs and pull at the android’s iron grip as the android grabbed his neck and hoisted him into the air. After watching too many A.S.S. training videos, Jongin knew this maneuver and knew he was about five seconds away from being slammed into the nearest wall or floor.

He gasped for breath, pulling at the android’s hands. 

“Hold still,” Jongdae shouted, “Let me jam this into his neck, and I’ll get you out of there.”

“ _…_ Do…it…already,” Jongin choked. 

The android must have sensed Jongdae behind him and violently turned, slamming Jongin into the wall before attacking Jongdae.  

“Independent comms detected,” the android said, finally managing to grab Jongdae’s arm. They reached into Jongdae’s ear and pulled out the comms but could do more before Jongdae swung his fist across the android’s face. Jongin watched from the floor, struggling to get up as his body begged him to lay back down and recover. 

Jongdae was a blur, dodging the android’s fists, fighting back with blows of his own. Hitting the armor with his bare fists must have been excruciating, but if Jongdae was in pain, he never showed it. Everyone in this building would call Jongdae a murderer, a killer, a devilish bastard who deserved everything coming for him. But none could deny that he was absolutely fearless.

“The USB virus,” Jongdae shouted at Jongin as he dodged another high velocity punch, “It’s on the floor.”

Jongin scrambled on the floor, grabbing the USB just as Jongdae managed to wrestle the android on the floor. Jongdae straddled the android’s back, gritting his teeth as he pinned the android’s head down. Jongin stabbed the USB into the android’s neck, hoping he hadn’t messed up.  

“Is that supposed to happen?” Jongin asked, helping Jongdae up as he watched the android begin twitch.

“Comms are down, so we can’t ask Joohyun,” Jongdae said, “We can only hope.”

Just in time, the elevator doors slid open, the pleasant _ding_ harmonizing with the whir of the android’s malfunctioning circuits. The two of them ran inside, jabbing the down button as fast as they could. As the doors shut, they watched as the android’s eyes flickered and red oil leaked out of its mouth.  

Luckily enough, they managed to escape from the building without any other confrontation, but they never stopped running even after the building was nowhere in sight. But they couldn’t run forever, and after the safehouse was just down the block, they finally slowed down, panting. Jongdae had the wildest grin on his face, and he leapt one final leap and punched his hand in the air, shouting over and over and over again _we’re free!_  

Jongin didn’t want to destroy such an important moment for Jongdae, but he wanted answers.

“Can you tell me about my father now?” Jongin asked. 

Jongdae bent over, hiding his expression as he breathed hard. Jongin himself was gasping for air and life, understanding Jongdae needed a moment to recover before he spoke.

“Yeah,” Jongdae nodded, tilting his head towards the safehouse. He started walking first, Jongin trudging behind him until he mustered enough energy to stand beside him. “You helped me, so I’ll help you. A deal’s a deal.” 

“So who did it?” Jongin asked. He was used to rigorous training, so it usually took him less time to recover from strenuous physical exertion. And yet, his heart was still slamming against his chest as he waited for an answer. 

“I’m friends with a guy,” Jongdae slowly said, “who’s been in this industry and playing this game since he was a kid…and he’s grown up to be quite the monster. Sad, really.” 

If Jongdae thought this guy was a real monster, then Jongin couldn’t even fathom how twisted his father’s murderer must’ve been. 

“What’s his name?” Jongin asked. He held his breath for a few seconds before exhaling loudly, causing a puff of mist to appear in front of him.

“His name,” Jongdae said as they walked down the driveway of the safehouse. He fell silent for a moment when they reached the door, pausing for a moment before he continued. “Is—”

Before Jongdae could finish, the door abruptly opened, revealing Joohyun. 

“We have a problem,” she grimly announced. 

Jongin physically saw the light dim in Jongdae’s eyes, his heart sink to the bottom of his chest, and almost felt bad for him. Their mission inside the building had been too easy, much too easy, and he supposed this was where everything went wrong, when Jongdae would find out he still had unfinished business. 

And it was. 

“What problem?” Jongdae flatly sked, shoving his hands into his pockets as he pushed into the house. 

“The system restore,” Joohyun softly said, holding the door open for Jongin as he took his time entering the safehouse, “You were minutes away from making it in time. I’m sorry.”

Jongdae stopped in his tracks, back turned to Joohyun and Jongin. His shoulders slowly slumped and he kicked at the floor before striding towards the table.

“That’s fine,” he said, tapping at the screens, “This wasn’t meant to be easy anyways.” 

Jongin hid outside beside the door, turning his back as he sent Yixing an update. 

 _Just kidding. Delay his detainment. More updates to follow_.

Jongin guessed he’d have to wait longer to find out the murderer’s identity, too, and he sighed, hastily shoving his phone in his pocket before finally entering the safehouse. He missed the curious look Joohyun gave him. 

Jongdae gripped the sides of the table so hard veins popped out from his skin. His jaw was clenched, and he shook his head over and over again. 

“I can’t fail now,” he said, “Not when we were so close.” 

“It’s fine,” Joohyun said, “We can always try again.” 

Jongdae closed his eyes, taking a moment to collect himself before he opened his eyes and nodded. 

“What’s our next move?” he asked, “Have they made another flash drive?” 

“I’ll check the cams,” Joohyun said, tapping a few buttons on the screen. Holographic videos of every security camera in the building were projected, and she stood, watching, switching between cams. 

“It won’t be easy to do this now that we’ve failed a second time,” Jongdae admitted, crossing his arms as his eyes scanned the videos, “They know we’re coming, they know what we want, and they won’t hesitate to kill. Are you sue you still want to do this?” 

“I told you,” Jongin said without hesitating, “I’m with you until you tell me what I need to know.” 

“And what happens after that?” Jongdae asked.

Jongin watched a squad of androids march through the hallways. Security had been tripled. 

“Then we go back to how we were. Enemies,” Jongin answered. 

“So we’re friends now?” Jongdae said, elbowing him lightly. 

“No,” Jongin said, glancing beside him to find Jongdae smiling, “We’re…co-workers.” 

“At least we’re on the same side then. Cheers,” Jongdae said, closing his hand into a fist before offering it to Jongin. 

“Cheers,” Jongin repeated, smashing his fist into Jongdae’s. 

“Here we go,” Joohyun said, minimizing all other videos except for a few that videotaped the Director’s office. 

No one could say anything as they watched the Director stick a flash drive into his laptop, save a file, and pull it out. From inside his desk he took out a sticker and meticulously placed it neatly on top of the flash drive. Joohyun tapped a few buttons on the screen, zooming in as they watched the Director write the on the sticker.

 

KIM JONGDAE

 

“That motherfucker,” Jongdae muttered, “He can’t just let me go?” 

“Well,” Jongin said, “It’s not like you’re innocent, Jongdae.” 

“At least Sehun’s free,” Jongdae said, running a hand through his hair, “But he won’t leave without me, so if I’m stuck, then he’ll stubbornly stay behind, too.”

“Look…Where’s he going now?” Joohyun asked, pointing at the screen. The Director had placed the flash drive in a brief case and carried it with him as he exited his office. For a while, the three of them silently watched as the Director left the building, flanked not by his usual two android guards, but twenty. 

“He must be going somewhere important,” Joohyun said, switching cameras to catch an outside view. 

“Maybe he’s storing the flash drive in a secret location since he knows we want it,” Jongdae said. 

After the androids helped the Director in a car, they climbed into cars themselves and drove around the Director’s car, forming an impenetrable defense.  Joohyun steadily hacked the traffic cams as the Director drove through city, changing camera after camera to keep up with him. After five minutes in pursuit, the Director stepped out of the car, adjusted his tie, and strode into a building 

“No,” Jongin said as soon as he read the sign outside the building.

“He fucking wouldn’t,” Jongdae muttered as Joohyun continued to access the cameras inside. 

The three of them watched in disbelief as the Director sat down in a private room, nodding as an android handed him a menu. 

“He needs that much security for…lunch?” Joohyun said. 

“Fucking… _lunch_?” Jongdae said, leaning closer to the hologram to confirm his eyes hadn’t been playing him. 

“Well,” Joohyun said, “Here’s your chance to steal the flash drive. He’ll be taken off guard if you steal it when he’s in the middle of his panini.” 

“Let’s do it,” Jongdae nodded, “Let’s head out before we lose our chance. Jongin, can you head upstairs and grab a few magazines full of bullets? They’re in the first door on the right on the table.”

Jongin nodded and quickly stomped up the metal stairs, looking behind him before he burst into the room and pulled out his phone. Assuming this mission went as well as the previous two, Jongin would have his answer in maybe forty-five minutes, and Yixing would have his target in an hour. Jongin sent a quick update to Yixing, notifying him of what needed to be done. 

 _Going to Director now. Don’t kill him_. 

He received a response seconds later. 

_We’ll be ready. Take care._

Jongin was tempted to echo the sentiment, but instead, he only wrote this. 

 _Wait until I get what I want_.

“Toss that phone,” someone said from behind him. Jongin gasped, startled by the voice, and quickly turned around to find Joohyun standing at the doorway watching him. He'd sworn that he closed that door. He really did. Feeling his heart jump from a steady andante to a suffocating presto, he hastily shoved his phone in his pocket. But it was too late. He’d been too careless, and she’d already seen what he had been doing. “It’s not safe, and you might be tracked.” 

“It’s a burner,” Jongin said, hastily grabbing a few magazines full of bullets just like Jongdae had asked him to. There was nothing suspicious happening here. Not at all. Absolutely nothing at all. 

“You throw away a burner after using it,” Joohyun said, stepping closer to Jongin, arms folded around her chest. Jongin easily towered over Joohyun, but he internally cowered after seeing the deep scowl pulling down Joohyun’s lips. “Who are you texting?” 

Jongin hesitated. He could only work with the truth since he could not lie. It was cruel of him, but he used what she had told him in an attempt to sneak himself out of this situation. 

“If you had Seulgi, then I had someone else once, too,” Jongin said. He regretted speaking as soon as the last word left his mouth. Saying things out loud made them more final. “It’s hard to let go, even if we’re done.” 

The suspicion melted off of Joohyun’s expression, and she watched him for a moment longer before she shifted in place, unable to look at Jongin’s gaze now. 

“Oh…I get it,” Joohyun said, a little softer, “I do. But you’re risking yourself and Jongdae by keeping that phone.”

“Is that all you came to say?” Jongin asked.

“No,” Joohyun said, holding out another USB drive, “I can’t do much if you’re outside A.S.S. servers, but I did program a quick virus that prevents androids and other computer systems from uploading any new file. Plug it into the android, and I’ll do the rest. We may not be able to delete the network files completely, but we can stop them from continually downloading new flash drives over and over again.” 

“Thank you,” Jongin nodded as he accepted the USB and pocketed it.

Joohyun nodded, said nothing more and turned back, leaving as quickly and suddenly as she had arrived. Lucky she hadn’t said or done anything more, Jongin grabbed as many magazines he could before running downstairs. Jongdae snapped some into his guns, tucked the others into the waistband of his pants, and gave the rest to Jongin. 

“Ready?” Jongdae asked, placing comms in Jongin’s ear before putting one in his own. 

Jongin nodded, checking his gun before concealing it. He didn’t expect to do much with it, didn’t expect to shoot anyone except an android or two if he _had_ to. His aim wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t particularly fond of shooting at anyone at all. Even when he was an active A.S.S. agent, it was Yixing who handled most of the gunfire, Jongin preferring hand to hand combat.

Because time was limited, they took another taxi to meet the Director. Jongdae had complained during the first minute of the ride, saying that it was such a shame he’d already sent his motorcycle ahead with the rest of his other things to his new house. Jongin listened in silence, hands clasped tightly together as he considered everything that could go wrong and would probably go wrong.

“I guess this is when they’ll realize that I’ve been working with you,” Jongin said, feeling his own fingernails dig in his skin, “They’ll see me helping you, fighting beside you, and it’ll be all over.”  

“You can lie,” Jongdae said, nudging him with his elbow, “You can lie and tell them that I forced you to help me. That I blackmailed you. That I held you at gunpoint until you gave up all their secrets.” 

“I can’t lie,” Jongin shook his head, “You know that by now. You’ve seen me fail again and again and again.” 

“Then run from the truth,” Jongdae said, raising an eyebrow as the taxi driver glanced at the rearview mirror, startled by their conversation. 

“These people,” Jongin carefully said, “always ask the right questions. The most specific questions. So there is no option but to tell the truth and reveal everything.” 

As they sped by the streets and the city, androids blended with human civilians, standing guard on every street and a few stores. It would’ve been impossible to distinguish them from each other if the androids hadn’t stood motionlessly, waiting to activate at any sign of trouble.

“Then learn how to lie,” Jongdae said.

“I can’t,” Jongin shook his head, “I’m not like you.”

“Well,” Jongdae shrugged, “If you’re that worried about the consequences, then don’t worry. I won’t let them kill you.”

“That’s so reassuring,” Jongin said. Jongdae probably just wanted to be the one who killed Jongin himself.

Jongdae punched his arm harder than usual, causing Jongin to grab his arm and before hitting back with a punch of his own. 

“I mean it,” Jongdae said, turning his nose up as he folded his arms across his chest. 

“Why?” Jongin glared, rubbing his arm, “This is only business.”

“Exactly,” Jongdae said, “How am I supposed to tell you what you want if you’re dead? And how are you supposed to help me if you’re dead? I only benefit when you’re alive, and I can only prove I keep my word if you don’t choke.”

“Fine,” Jongin said, stretching as the taxi driver pulled over right near the building. A sudden jolt of dread struck him as he stepped outside, realizing what he was about to do. He had managed to escape the last few missions with his reputation still intact, but if the Director saw him here, then it’d be all over.

“Ready?” Jongdae said, pulling out his gun. 

“No,” Jongin said. 

But for his father’s sake, he would be. 

As they approached the building, Jongin’s comms screeched unpleasantly, playing a high-pitched note that caused him to wince and rip his comms out of his ears.

“I don’t know what’s so special about this place, but our comms are dead,” Jongdae said as he removed his own, “Killed by whatever anti comms tech they have. We’re on our own now.”

That did not make Jongin feel any better about the situation, forcing him to mentally recall the plan over and over again to decrease any other chance of error. They’d split up, Jongdae engaging the Director directly while Jongin tracked down a single android to install the USB. Simple. Easy. But the outcome of their fights had thousands of different outcomes, many bad, and Jongin hoped his fighting skills weren’t as rusty as he expected.

“They’re not there to attack you, so don’t be afraid,” Jongdae said as soon as they walked through the front doors. The Director liked his meals fancy, so here they were in the middle of an expensive hotel lobby, nodding at the androids greeting them like nothing was wrong. “They’re here for me.”

“When did I say I was afraid?” Jongin asked as they headed towards the east wing of the hotel where the restaurant was located.

“You didn’t. But I know you are,” Jongdae smugly said, almost skipping on the ornately decorated carpet.

Jongin didn’t bother to correct him because he knew what his wrist would reveal.

They split up at the crossroads, Jongdae taking the direct path towards the restaurant, Jongin taking the longer detour where security was sparser, where it would be easier to isolate a single android.

As he walked down the winding hallway decorated with hanging lights and holographic statues, Jongin shoved his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking. It was impossible to be fearless like Jongdae was, but Jongin reminded himself why he was suffering through all of this and put one foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. How he felt now must be nothing compared to how his father felt in his final moment. Maybe he’d cried, died with regret as he couldn’t even tell his family he loved them one last time.

After turning the corner, Jongin stopped. Froze as he saw two androids stationed, standing guard at the entrance to the end of the east wing. He had no time to waste in hesitation, in fear, so even though he wanted nothing more than to run the opposite way, Jongin squared his shoulders and approached the androids.

“Hi,” Jongin said, trying to channel some of Jongdae’s energy, “I have a question.” 

“How may I help you?” the android asked.

Jongin reached into his pocket, preparing the USB as he flipped the cap off.

“What’s that?” Jongin asked pointing to the right.

In the second it took the androids to look away, Jongin grabbed one of the androids, pushing their neck downwards before jamming the USB into its proper place. But before he could escape, the other android thrust out an arm, wrapping their hand around Jongin’s throat. Their eyes flickered before glowing red. Jongin gasped for breath, about to kick the android as hard as he could before the android’s eyes flickered before his very eyes. The android’s grasp slackened, causing Jongin to rip the android’s fingers off his throat, coughing as he watched the android seemingly deactivate and freeze. They teetered in place before toppling over, revealing their assailant behind him. 

“ _Yixing_?” Jongin asked after taking one look at the man in front of him. 

“Jongin,” Yixing said, stretching out his hand before thinking twice and dropping it to his side, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Jongin said, massaging his throat, “Thank you.” 

“It’s nothing,” Yixing shook his head, “But what were you doing? Where’s Jongdae?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jongin said, hoping Yixing wouldn’t ask about the other android beside him that suddenly jerked in place, red oil leaking from its body again. “Just give me time. I still need something he has. I’ll let you know when you can take him in.”

Yixing frowned, his expression wrinkled with emotions Jongin couldn’t quite name.

“Don’t trust him,” Yixing said, “He’ll kill you when he gets the chance.”

“He won’t,” Jongin shook his head, “Not right now at least.”

“You do realize his threat level is so high we’ve only deployed androids inside the building?” Yixing asked, looking around them before leaning closer, “Not that he’d survive that many androids attacking him, but in the event that he does, all our agents outside know it’s shoot on sight.”

“You’ve…brought a kill squad?” Jongin asked, not sure why he cared enough to raise his voice. Kill squads were comprised of only androids in order to minimize human casualties. If a target miraculously managed to survive the encounter, then they’d face human agents outside ready to finish the job.

“He’s dangerous,” Yixing said.

“Then he should stand trial, not be put down,” Jongin said, the volume of his voice steadily crescendoing as he jabbed Yixing’s chest. 

“Killing him would make it safer on the streets,” Yixing said, his eyebrows beginning to furrow. Jongin couldn’t remember when they had ever spoken to each other like this, argued with each other like this. But there was always a first time for everything even after they had their lasts.  

“No one’s scared of assassins out there,” Jongin said, pointing in a vague direction, “Everyone’s more afraid of the petitions.” 

Yixing tilted his head slightly and shook his head. 

“He’s brainwashed you. Don’t you remember someone like him killed your father?” Yixing chided. Jongin hated the way Yixing slowly flicked his gaze up and down his body.   

“I won’t let the cycle continue,” Jongin insisted, hearing his voice echo in the high ceilings, “I won’t kill him and I won’t let you kill him before he has a chance to stand trial.” 

“That’s not what we do for people like him,” Yixing said. 

“Yeah,” Jongin said “I remember Seulgi.” 

“I did that to save your life,” Yixing said, his turn to firmly prod Jongin’s chest. 

“There wasn’t much life to save after I took that bullet for you,” Jongin shrugged, tapping his bracelet to check the time. “Just stay out of my way for two minutes. I’ll give him to you when I have what I need." 

He pushed past Yixing, racing towards Jongdae’s location as fast as he could. Jongdae couldn’t be dead…Not when he still had so much to tell him. Not when he swore to Jongin he wouldn’t die. But android kill squads were difficult to survive, difficult to fight against, and Jongin’s pulse jumped into his throat as he braced himself for the sight of Jongdae’s body, bl— 

Then he turned a corner and saw Jongdae standing in the middle of the hall alone. 

“Jongdae,” Jongin shouted, rushing towards him. 

“Oh?” Jongdae said, turning around, “You’re here already?”

“They sent a kill squad for you to guard the perimeters,” Jongin said, bending over as he caught his breath, “Their orders are kill on sight. You have to be careful.”

“What kill squad?” Jongdae said. As Jongin continued to breathe, he observed his surroundings and finally noticed the motionless, crumpled androids and puddles of red oil around them. 

“Oh,” Jongin said. He was a fool for thinking they’d be a challenge for Jongdae.

“You care about me?” Jongdae said, bending down to meet Jongin’s downcast gaze.

Jongin shook his head and glared. He should’ve taken his time and walked instead of rushing here to warn Jongdae about a threat he’d already taken care of.

“I’m touched,” Jongdae beamed, tousling Jongin’s hair. Jongin batted Jongdae’s hands away and straightened up.

“Let’s get this over with,” Jongin muttered, heading for the Director’s location. He was unaware that the Director was like this…wasting fifty androids just to have lunch, hiding away in a private room while hotel staff prepared his food two floors above of them. But it was convenient. It really was. If the Director wanted to have lunch in a tiny, secluded room without any witnesses, then fine. It’d only be easier for Jongdae to take what he wanted.

As they approached the room, Jongdae stopped, pulled Jongin behind a pillar, and held out a flash bomb.

“When I give you the signal, throw this and run,” Jongdae whispered, placing the flash bomb into Jongin’s hand.  Originally, Jongdae had wanted a grenade, but Jongin refused to help until Jongdae agreed to let him use a flash bomb. “Stay hidden, alright? If he doesn’t see you, then he won’t think you’re working with me.”

With that, he left Jongin with a nod, striding towards the entrance of the private room and kicking open the door. Jongin swallowed, standing guard as he clutched the bomb between slightly damp hands. Slightly shaking hands. 

“What’s up,” Jongdae announced, “Surprised to see me?” 

Jongin took the time to creep from the pillar towards the room, pressing his ear against the wall to hear the conversation better.

“Jongdae,” the Director said after a pause, “I hope you’ve left Kim Jongin alive.”

“Why the fuck would I kill him? It’s not like I’m a cold-blooded murderer, right?” Jongdae said before letting out a laugh. 

Silence from the Director. 

“I don’t know how you managed to sneak in here after I brought fifty guards with me, but I assure you that you will not be walking out of here free,” the Director said, “or in the best scenario possible, walking out of here at all.” Jongin heard the whir of the androids, signaling that they had begun to move. Assuming the Director still favored old habits, Jongin guessed there were only two androids inside the room. One on the Director’s right, one on his left.

“You motherfuckers think I’m that weak?” Jongdae said, sounding unconcerned with those threats, “Ten agents or twenty. Thirty androids or a hundred. You can’t stop me.”

“Execute arrest. Initiate kill sequence if necessary,” the Director calmly said, causing Jongin’s breath to hitch in his throat. He didn’t really want to see anyone die in front of him again. Not Jongdae either. 

“ _Anyways_ ,” Jongdae shouted through the midst of the sudden burst of gunfire and mechanical clanking, “Sehun and I are retiring. What the fuck are you going to do with your life after we’re gone?”

Jongin felt the wall shake behind him and ducked instinctively, sure that a smattering of bullets had just peppered the wall behind him.

“So I need your brief case,” Jongdae said, pausing to shoot three more times, “I know you’ve got my flash drive in there.

“Is there anything else you want to say before my androids either take you in or put you down?” the Director said. He didn’t seem tired, so it was his android guards that were the only ones fighting.  

“Yeah. Have a heart, motherfucker,” Jongdae said.  

If Jongin was not supposed to be keeping quiet to hide his presence from the Director, he would have laughed.

“Guards, please arrest him,” the Director smoothly said.

Not that Jongin wanted to look, but he never saw exactly what Jongdae did in that room, how he fought the androids without suffering a single scratch, and how he still managed to have time to flip the Director off every now and then. All Jongin heard were gunshots and shouts, felt the impact of something thrown against the wall behind him, and guessed that those androids were about to have the worst and last days of their existence.

Jongdae had never told Jongin what the signal was, but after Jongdae tore out of the room, carrying the briefcase in one hand, gun in the other, Jongin triggered the flash bomb and threw it into the room anyways. 

The loud _bang_ of smoke and light would no doubt attract whatever androids that remained, so they sprinted out of the east wing and wove their way between hotel patrons who looked on, startled by the gun, frightened by the android employees around them that suddenly switched to kill mode.

But Jongdae and Jongin were too fast, too elusive, and after minutes of maneuvering through the crowd to their advantages, they burst out of a side entrance and never looked back. 

As they tore through the streets, Jongin was all too aware of every android leaving their stations, their checkpoints to pursue them. Human civilians ran past them shrieking, fleeing stores that androids searched. If Yixing were serious about the human agents waiting outside the building, then Jongin never saw any of them. He only saw the hoards of androids searching for them, and after recognizing the protocol, he dragged Jongdae into an alleyway.  

“They won’t return to places they’ve already searched, so we can hide there after they’re finished,” Jongin said, pointing at the store across the street. They waited a few minutes, watching androids smash through the shop, overturning racks and upending boxes for any sign of them. 

After the androids left, marching next door to a furniture store, Jongin gave the signal and sprinted across the street. The skewed bells of the department store chimed weakly as Jongin opened the door and stepped inside. Books lay scattered over the floor, loose pages crumpled and ripped.

Jongdae walked straight to the back, beckoning Jongin to hide with him behind a shelf of soccer balls. Jongin sat, watching as Jongdae kneeled, toyed with the brief case’s lock until it popped open. At least fifty flash drives had been dumped inside, but after upending the brief case on the floor, it’d only taken Jongdae three seconds to find his flash drive and put a bullet straight through it. 

“That always feels so good,” Jongdae sighed.

“But we still need to delete the backup files on the network,” Jongin said, “Maybe Joohyun disabled the upload function, but they can still access your information online any time they want.”

He glanced at the pile of flash drives and recognized one from their first mission.

 

AND_BACKUP_LOGS

 

Without understanding what that meant, Jongin pocketed it, hoping he could use it as leverage if he needed. 

“Yeah,” Jongdae said, standing up to stomp on the remains of the flash drive once again, “But this time, run the op with Joohyun at the safehouse. It’s too risky now for you to come with me into the field. It’s only a matter of time before they realize you’re involved, Jongin. And when they do, they won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“Okay,” Jongin said, not complaining about being given a much safer task. But if Jongdae could have finished this mission alone, then why had he approached him for help in the first place?

“Can you tell me who killed my father now?” Jongin said, staring up at Jongdae, “I’ll still help you until everything’s properly destroyed, but I really need to know.”

Yixing was probably arriving soon, and he needed to squeeze the truth out of Jongdae before he allowed A.S.S. to detain him.

Jongdae nodded, but right before he could speak, a cry sounded. Leaping to his feet, Jongdae crept around the bookshelf to investigate. Jongin followed, holding his gun steadily, waiting for any androids to shoot. But three aisles over, all they found was a baby strapped to a stroller, her parents nowhere in sight. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Jongdae cooed, bending down to meet the baby at eye level, “Who are you? Hello angel.”

In the confusion, the mess the androids started once they raided this store, it seemed someone had left their baby behind. Jongin didn’t know how people could leave their children, could forget about them in moments like this, but this baby’s parents had done so. Jongin’s own father had done so, too. But it hadn’t been his fault. 

The baby continued to cry, causing Jongdae to gently lift her out of the stroller. Jongin watched wordlessly as Jongdae cradled the baby, swaying her back and forth while humming a sweet tune. 

“It’s okay,” Jongdae soothingly said, pressing a kiss to the baby’s head, “You’re safe. Nothing will happen to you.” 

Jongin turned his attention to the windows, squinting as he saw threatening figures approach the store. _Agents_. This was why he preferred fighting androids. Androids were predictable and followed orders precisely, never questioning, never repeating any command. But humans? Humans did whatever they wanted, and these human agents were breaking protocol to sweep the area once again. 

“Jongdae,” Jongin whispered, ducking behind the shelf as he saw an agent walk through the front door with a gun raised, “Put the baby down and let’s go. We have company.”

“I can’t,” Jongdae said, only looking at the baby, “She’ll die here by herself.”

That was unlikely, but Jongin didn’t have the energy or emotional capacity to argue. After convincing Jongdae to at least creep towards a different department as far from the door as possible, Jongdae had insisted on bringing the baby with them. In the baby department, Jongin tiredly ripped open a baby carrier right out of its box and helped Jongdae put it on. Jongdae was more excited about being able to hold a baby and a gun at the same time than he should have been.

“Hi,” Jongdae beamed, continue to sway back and forth. The baby stopped crying and stared at him, reaching out to touch his face with the tiniest fingers Jongin had ever seen. “Are you doing okay? You’re so precious! Look at your tiny nose…your little fingers. Oh my god.” 

A loud crash sounded a few departments over.

“Jongdae,” Jongin warned, “They’re coming. Let’s go.”

“Everything’s going to be fine, okay?” Jongdae sweetly promised before allowing Jongin to lead the way towards the back of the store. Along the way, Jongdae insisted on stopping to rip open a pair of ear muffs for the baby to muffle any gunshots she might hear.

“Okay I’m ready now,” Jongdae said, one hand placed behind the baby’s head, the other hand clenching a gun.

“Jongdae, are you using that baby as a human shield?” Jongin whispered, crouching down as he heard footsteps three aisles over. 

“No?” Jongdae said, looking scandalized, “Of course not. She’ll get through this without even a scratch.”

“She’s literally a whole human shield,” Jongin argued, gesturing at Jongdae’s chest, “Your heart’s completely covered.”

They spent the next few moments bickering back and forth, but Jongin did have to admit that if Jongdae ever had the chance to raise kids of his own, he’d be the most loving father in the world.

Any dissent that they voiced immediately died as Jongdae quickly leapt behind a display of lavender soaps and shooting at someone behind Jongin.

“What’s up, motherfucker,” Jongdae said, keeping his gun raised. Jongin looked behind him, watching blood spill out of the body. 

“Let’s go,” Jongin said, composing himself long enough to nonfatally shoot the agent behind Jongdae. He did it for the baby. Not for Jongdae of course. “There’s no back door in this store, so we’ll have to circle back to the front.” 

After three more agents falling to the floor, some dead, some alive, Jongin and Jongdae were well on their way to the entrance. 

“These motherfuckers will never leave us alone at this rate. But at least there aren’t any androids,” Jongdae said before he pressed his lips together, “Wait. I should stop swearing for the little one.” 

“How is that baby not crying?” Jongin asked, keeping Jongdae and the baby behind him. If Jongdae insisted on strapping that baby to his chest, then Jongin could not, in good conscience, allow the agents anywhere near such a vulnerable target. So he walked first to ensure that he was the first person that incoming agents would shoot.

As Jongin opened the door and held it open for Jongdae, he blinked twice after Jongdae walked past him. The baby had fallen asleep on Jongdae’s chest, soothed by the gentle swaying and the soft humming.

“Any better ideas on where to hide?” Jongdae asked after they began hurrying down the street, “The safehouse is too far from here.”

Before Jongin could answer, a young woman in tears ran towards them.

“My _baby_ ,” she wailed, about to push past them before Jongin reached out to stop her. 

“Excuse me. Is this your baby?” he said, resisting the urge to add _that you abandoned_. 

“Oh… _Oh_ ,” the woman said, clutching at her chest as she peered at the baby. “ _Yes_ …My friends dragged me out of the store when the androids barged in, and I thought that at least one of them had remembered to bring her.”

“She was so good,” Jongdae said, taking a step back, “so quiet. She didn’t even cry at all. Not even through the gunfire.”

“Thank you for saving my baby,” the mother said, bowing multiple times in a row.

“You shouldn’t have left her alone,” Jongdae frowned. The mother opened her arms, waiting for Jongdae to give her child back. Jongin helped unbuckle the carrier, but that was where he stopped after seeing the way Jongdae clenched his jaw.   

“Take care of your kid,” Jongdae said, hesitating before lifting the baby out of the carrier. The baby woke up with a sleepy yawn and blinked at him. There was a soft look on Jongdae’s face, one that disappeared as soon as the mother took her and ran off. 

Jongdae sighed, setting down the carrier before placing a hand over his eyes to survey the area.  

“Androids. A hundred meters away,” he announced, pointing to their left. The commotion had attracted their attention, and they began approaching, raising their guns in the air in anticipation. “Do you think they’ll believe us if we tell them we’re someone else? That we’re not who they think we are?”

“They’re not stupid, Jongdae,” Jongin said, grabbing Jongdae’s hand and pulling him into a run. Jongdae’s lack of urgency and reckless nature would get him killed one day. Jongin knew it. 

“Here,” Jongin said, leading them to an alleyway. As they ran forwards through the dim space, Jongin looked back to make sure that nothing had followed them. 

His mistake. After looking forwards again, he nearly ran straight into two human agents.

“I found them,” one agent bellowed into his comms, raising his gun point blank at Jongin, ready to fire.

Not that he had a chance, as Jongdae pushed him out of the way and attacked the agent before he even had time to be afraid. While Jongdae slammed the first agent’s head against the wall, Jongin scrambled to his feet and attempted to disarm the second agent. In the struggle, he heard two shots but was trained not to look until the immediate threat was over. So he tried a different tactic, grabbed the agent’s head and leapt up, pushing his knee upwards while pulling the agent’s head down. Jongin heard a sickening crunch, a pained yell, and as the agent staggered backwards, he finally knocked the gun out of his hand and swiped a fist straight across his face. 

After making sure the agent was doing nothing more than writhe on the floor in pain, Jongin looked for Jongdae and gasped.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Jongin said, running towards him after noticing the blood pouring out of his leg. Jongdae hissed, struggling to push himself off the ground. A few feet away, the other agent lay still, eyes open, blood blossoming their shirt.

“They’re over here,” the agent Jongin had taken care of groaned, fingers pinching his nose to stop the bleeding, “We clipped him in the leg.”

“Then finish the fucking job,” someone else shouted meters away, “What do we do about the other one? He’s ex-A.S.S., right?”

“Kill him,” the agent said, scrambling for his gun, “I’ll kill him. The reports were wrong. He’s working with Jongdae.” 

Jongin would’ve been more scared if the agent’s voice hadn’t been muddled by his broken nose. And if Jongdae hadn’t charged over, injured leg and all, and fired three bullets into the agent’s head. When the other agent ran onto the scene, Jongdae aimed and only needed one bullet before the agent fell.

Jongin swallowed, trying not to look too hard at the bodies around him and trying not to think too hard about how effortlessly and thoughtlessly Jongdae had aimed and pulled the trigger. Instead, he swung an arm over Jongdae’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he said as Jongdae placed his arm over Jongin’s own shoulder for support.” 

“Thanks,” Jongdae said, using Jongin’s weight to support himself as they fled from the scene. The blood from Jongdae’s leg would no doubt leave a trail to trace them, but Jongin hoped it would be less noticeable on the black pavement.

Jongdae’s fingers dug into Jongin’s shoulder, and while he didn’t fear death, Jongdae was not immune to pain, letting out a string of swears as he stumbled along. Jongin remembered the way Jongdae had pushed him out of the way before throwing himself straight at the agents.

“Why do you care so much about me?” Jongin asked, casting a glance at Jongdae, “You could’ve ran. Taken the flash drive and left. Why did you stay and fight with me?”

Fight for him?

“Well, why do _you_ care so much about me?” Jongdae asked, returning the look, “You could’ve left me there and let the agents gun me down.” 

“You still haven’t told me what I need,” Jongin said, “it’s not like they had any chance, and also I asked you first.”

“Fair,” Jongdae smiled before he shrugged, “You think too highly of yourself. I told you, Jongin. We have a deal. That’s all.”

“You’re lying,” Jongin insisted, ducking into another alleyway as he saw more androids across the street. Had they seen them?

“It’s funny,” Jongdae said as Jongin debated which way to run now, “I don’t lie to Sehun because he’s Sehun and because he knows when I’m lying. Are you really telling me my talent in deceit and flair in dishonesty isn’t as good as it used to be? Why can you tell so easily?”

“If you lie all the time, it’s better to assume you’re never telling the truth,” Jongin shrugged. The alleyway’s dim lighting offered more protection, so he began helping Jongdae down the cracked pavement.

“How can I make you think I’m lying and telling the truth when it matters?” Jongdae complained. Jongin could hear the pout in his voice and suppressed the smile that threatened to spread across his face.

“Too late. Just do what you do best and continue to be insufferable and chaotic,” Jongin said, “Don’t save me. Don’t pick up babies. Don’t say nice things. It makes it so much harder to hate you.” 

“You still hate me?” Jongdae said, shadows dancing on his face as they walked under a flickering light.

“Yes. Of course,” Jongin said, “You stand for everything I’m against.” 

His bracelet told the truth, and Jongdae’s laugh harmonized with the shrill beep.

Jongin began to wonder if his bracelet was malfunctioning or if he really had grown slightly fond of Jongdae before sparing himself the headache and focusing on the road ahead instead.

A few stores were scattered in the street across the end of the alleyway, and Jongin stood, hiding in the darkness as he decided which would be the safest place to hide. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been with me all this time and you still haven’t picked up a few tips on lying,” Jongdae shook his head. 

“Come on,” Jongin said, choosing a warehouse full of home improvement supplies across the street. The selection of power tools would be useful if they needed extra weapon options. “Just shut up and keep moving.”

As they crossed the street, his phone buzzed. Jongin prayed Jongdae hadn’t noticed, but he didn’t pray hard enough. Though he could feel Jongdae’s eyes on him, Jongin stubbornly kept walking, kept his eyes forward, and pretended he had no idea what that noise was.

“That’s Yixing isn’t it,” Jongdae said.

“No,” Jongin hastily said without thinking. His bracelet flashed red.

“You’re a terrible liar, Jongin,” Jongdae said, letting out a long sigh, “I know you’ve been talking to him this whole time. He’s waiting to detain me, right? You’ll let him know when it’s time. Right?” 

“That’s not true,” Jongin shook his head, feeling his heart miss a beat or two. Now was not the time to provoke Jongdae’s anger. Not when he was this close to the end. “That’s not—” 

His bracelet answered for him. 

Jongdae laughed. 

“Please. I knew you were going to turn me in eventually,” Jongdae said, fingers digging into Jongin’s shoulder as he limped along, “But I was hoping I could change your mind.” 

“Is that why you were nice to me? Why you saved my life?” Jongin asked, casting a quick glance beside him. 

Jongdae looked nothing like he had looked when he’d heard Yixing and the Director discussing how to kill Sehun. That raw rage and dark fury was nowhere to be seen on his expression. He only pressed his lips together and raised his gaze to the skies, his eyebrows slightly knitting upwards. 

“I can’t be nice to you for no reason?” Jongdae asked, “I can’t save your life for no reason?” 

The usual staccato from his words was gone, replaced by a wandering lilt at the end of every phrase.

“You don’t do anything for no reason, Jongdae,” Jongin said. They were halfway across the street, the store in sight.

“Then why do you think I’m still staying with you?” Jongdae asked, pausing to sharply inhale. Jongin didn’t know how Jongdae was this calm and able to have a coherent conversation after being shot. “I can escape faster on my own, disappear in a second, and no one would be able to catch me.”

“Because the job isn’t done,” Jongin answered.

“Jongin,” Jongdae said at last. Even though the streetlight had turned red, the two of them took their time and crossed the street despite the angry honking of the waiting cars. “There’s something that—" 

“ _Hurry_ ,” Jongin gasped, all but pushing Jongdae into the store after spotting androids down the street. Jongdae hopped on one foot to keep up, one arm still holding Jongin, the other still grasping a gun.

Inside the store, the customers and employees at the front checkout lines stared as Jongin dragged Jongdae inside. Jongin didn’t care, didn’t even focus on anything but making it to the back of the store. 

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Jongdae snarled at someone who was gawking at them. The employee squeaked and ran for the doors, causing the rest of the customers to grab their purses and their bags and their unpaid merchandise before fleeing. Some brave employee who was most definitely not paid enough for this picked up the phone and dialed the police.

“Hello, please send help.  There are two strange, armed men inside—”

That was all the employee could say before Jongdae put a bullet through the phone. 

Jongdae started humming again, started singing again while they were trudging past the aisles of paint.

“What’s this song called?” Jongin asked, looking around the store, deciding which way to go. The aisles bled into each other, creating a twisting labyrinth of power tools and porcelain pots.

“It’s called ‘You Might As Well Check Your Messages Since I Already Know,’” Jongdae said before continuing to hum, refusing to look at Jongin.

Jongin conceded and pulled out his phone. It was too late to pretend. It was also too late to stop what had been sent in motion.

“What does it say?” Jongdae asked, peering at Jongin’s screen, “That I should be put down at all costs?”

“I asked him not to kill you,” Jongin said before tilting his screen towards Jongdae.

 _Closing on your location. 2 minutes before we move in._

“That was five minutes ago,” Jongin said, pocketing the phone.

“So you’re just going to give me up now?” Jongdae asked, “That’s the plan?”

“No,” Jongin said, weaving through the hall of mirrors. He looked straight ahead, unable to face himself. “We’re finding a back door to escape through because we’re not done with each other. The job’s not done yet for both of us.”

“Well,” Jongdae said as a wall stopped them from walking any further, “There isn’t one. So what now?”

“Then we’ll escape through the front,” Jongin said, turning around, “They’re not here yet.” 

He spoke too soon, as just as they tiptoed through the power tools, the bells of the front door tolled. Jongin climbed onto a shelf, seeing two agents rush inside with guns raised. Two agents too many. 

“Two incoming,” Jongin reported.

Jongdae checked how many bullets he had left before he tossed his gun aside.

“Don’t worry,” Jongdae said, lifting a large wrench off the shelf beside them, “You won’t die.”

“You can’t either,” Jongin said, picking up a screwdriver, “We’re not done with business.”

“Who says I ever will?” Jongdae winked at Jongin.

If there was anyone who could stay alive forever purely by the sheer force of willpower and not giving a fuck, it would be Jongdae. He was the type of god who'd see death knocking and open his front door just to fight. The human who’d see the light after being beaten and broken and walk straight towards it because that’s all it was. Light. The legend who’d find himself surrounded by a thousand enemies and laugh because it was too easy of a fight for him.

The two of them crouched behind a shelf, weapons in hand.

“We have to wait for them to come to us since they have guns,” Jongdae whispered, “You stay here, and I’ll take the next row.” 

Jongin nodded as Jongdae shuffled over to the next row. They waited in silence with baited breath for the agents to find them. But then, as if remembering something, Jongdae placed the wrench on the ground before sliding his wedding ring off his finger.

“Hold onto this for me,” Jongdae ordered, rolling his ring towards Jongin.

“Why?” Jongin asked, reaching out to pick it up. He examined it, admiring how the lights danced around the ruby. 

“Just in case,” Jongdae said, “They won’t hurt you because you’re one of them. So in case we get separated, give it to him.”

“You’re not going to die,” Jongin said, giving Jongdae a confused look as he held it out to return it, “If you’re captured, they’ll only put you on trial. I’ll make sure of it.” 

“I admire your optimism,” Jongdae said, taking a shaky breath. His face had paled considerably, and if the agents wouldn’t kill him, then blood loss would. “You’re right. I won’t die, but if I’m in their custody, they’ll take that ring from me, and I can’t let them touch that. So give it to Sehun if I’m gone…and tell him…”

“That you love him?” Jongin said, his heart dropping in his chest. Where was the Jongdae that’d come home no matter what?  

“He already knows that,” Jongdae waved him off, “Tell him that death’s a weakass bitch I’ll pummel into pieces so I can see him again.” 

“You tell him that yourself,” Jongin said, gesturing for Jongdae to take it back.

Jongdae shook his head and crawled towards him. He grabbed Jongin’s hand, pressed the ring into his palm, and closed Jongin’s fingers over it. 

“If you ever lose that…” Jongdae said, shooting Jongin a look. He didn’t finish the sentence, but Jongin knew. He knew. 

Just as Jongin carefully placed the ring in his pockets, he saw a shadow loom over him. But before he could react, Jongdae had leapt up and attacked. Jongin hadn’t even finished pulling his hand out of his pocket before he heard the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. He took his time turning around, not surprised at all once he saw it was Jongdae left standing. 

The fight seemed to attract the attention of the other agent, the sound of rapidly thudding footsteps echoing in the space. Jongdae grabbed Jongin’s arm as they crouched downwards and ran towards a different aisle to hide in.

“I’ll find you, Kim Jongdae,” the other agent shouted, “And I’ll kill you!”

“Why do you keep saving me?” Jongin whispered as he watched Jongdae peek out of the aisle, searching for any sign of the agent, “You’d only do that for Sehun. For your own self.” 

“I’d only do something like that for family,” Jongdae said, finally wincing as he checked his leg.

“I don’t understand,” Jongin said. He didn’t have a knife to cut off some of his clothes, so he pressed his hand down on Jongdae’s leg and hoped the pressure was enough to at least slow the bleeding. 

Family? Already? What had he done to earn Jongdae’s trust? He’d always thought that it was odd Jongdae never snapped at him, never even threatened to kill him. Was Jongdae lonely with only Sehun for company? Did he want to make other friends that desperately? 

“Why—” Jongin began to say before everything that could have gone wrong did.

The front doors of the store burst open, and if Jongin and Jongdae were to peek out of their hiding place, they would’ve seen ten heavily armed agents and twenty androids march into the store.

Jongdae closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a moment before he opened his eyes again and grabbed Jongin’s shoulders.

“Jongin,” Jongdae said in such a way that made the question die in Jongin’s throat, “Listen because I’m only telling you this once.”

He paused, searching for something in Jongin’s expression before he continued. 

“I’m the one who killed your father,” he said, “He was my first kill.”

Jongin. Froze. 

His jaw dropped open, but he could not even manage to yell the _what_? that strangled his throat, the _why?_ that reached into his chest and tore his heart apart.

Jongdae carefully watched his expression, eyes widening every second Jongin failed to speak.

“You’re _lying_ ,” Jongin shouted at last, something snapping inside of him. He’d waited for this moment his whole life, only for the truth to slip through his fingers. Jongdae had dangled the secret above his head this entire time, only for him to feed him with this lie.

That was all he had time to say before something cylindrical sailed through the air towards them. Jongdae grabbed Jongin and pushed them behind a shelf before it touched the ground. If it had been a grenade, they both would’ve been dead and blown to pieces. But it had only been a flash bomb, leaving Jongin unable to process anything but the pounding of his head, the blurriness in his eyes, and the ringing in his ears.

Voices sharply cut through the haze that Jongin drowned in.

“Move in!”

“They’re down!” 

“Does anyone have the kill shot yet?” 

“Quickly. Do it now before they recover.” 

“Pull the trigger if you have the shot.”

Jongin gasped, struggling to sit up even though Jongdae had taken most of the impact. Maybe the unwavering desire to stay alive really did pull Jongdae through every situation unimaginable because unlike Jongin, he slowly pulled himself up with a groan. 

Maybe he did do everything for Sehun. Maybe he was thinking of what it would be like if they had to live apart, one alive and one dead, and used that repulsion to get back up again, to stand up on two feet again.

Maybe Jongdae did do everything for love.

After a few seconds, Jongin remembered what Jongdae had told him, and tears immediately rushed to his eyes as his fingers flew up to cover his mouth. 

“You’re _lying_ ,” Jongin could only repeat. The tears in his eyes distorted his vision, and he could not recognize the person in front of him.

“Sorry, Jongin,” Jongdae said, hands reaching out before he stopped himself, “I wish I was.” 

Jongin was unable to do anything but sit on the floor, staring into nowhere, so Jongdae was the one who peeked behind the corner as agents quickly approached from every angle. He still had his wrench, but what good would that do in a gun fight? He still had his heart, but what good would that do without his love, his life? 

“ _Jongin!”_

A different voice tore through the confusion, one Jongin recognized and seized as if it were the only light in the abyss he found himself in.

Jongin snapped his neck, turning as he saw a blurry figure run towards him. He blinked tears out of his eyes and saw someone his heart could recognize anywhere.

“Yixing?” Jongin shakily said.

But Yixing wasn’t here for him. He’d come to detain Jongdae or to put a bullet through his brain, so without saying anything more to Jongin, he raised his gun once he was close enough to Jongdae. 

“ _No_ ,” Jongin said, finally seeing clear enough to leap up and grab Yixing’s gun. But the agents that had surrounded him misread his behavior as aggression, his good intentions as murderous, and fired. 

Jongin didn’t even understand he’d been shot until he heard Yixing scream, until he stumbled to the floor, and until he gingerly touched his arm and found, mixed with Jongdae’s blood, some of his own.

Yixing caught him before he fell, and Jongin wondered if Yixing finally realized that sending him away would have never saved him from all the bullets, all the blood. This situation was all too familiar, and Jongin remembered this pain, remembered this screaming, all this screaming from Yixing. But for the very first time, he saw Jongdae turn around, snarling as he threw himself at the agents who had shot Jongin. In such close range, guns were useless against Jongdae, who moved faster than anyone could have anticipated given his injury. He’d lost so much blood, but he never lost his heart. 

“You see this?” Jongdae shouted as he twisted a gun out of an agent’s hand and unloaded half the clip into the agent’s chest, “This is how a killer works, Jongin.”

He then turned, firing the rest of his bullets at the three other agents standing in his way. 

“This is the work of the killer who murdered your father,” Jongdae announced, his back to Jongin. He dropped the gun on the floor, wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood his ground. Guns against fists. Hate against heart. 

“You’re…lying,” Jongin choked out. He could feel Yixing’s hands on him, but he pushed them away and tried to sit up on his own. He slipped after a sudden, renewed jolt of pain seared through his shoulder, causing him to crumple with a groan. Yixing caught him again, and Jongin curled up, tears staining his cheeks as he endured the pain. 

A few meters away, he could do nothing but watch as five androids took control of the situation. They accessed guns were useless against Jongdae, so two of them seized his arms while the others pummeled his body with their mechanical fists. Jongdae did not go quietly, thrashing back and forth, his hands curling up into fists, his mouth expelling fiery swears 

“You said your father as your first kill,” Jongin said, using his remaining energy to shout. His words slurred together, and he pointed a shaking finger at the androids to tell them to _stop_. He wasn’t _finished yet_. They couldn’t kill Jongdae. 

Not Jongdae.

Not. _Jongdae._

Yixing must have listened to Jongin, as one android grabbing Jongdae pulled out not a gun or even a knife, but rather a taser. Much like the one Jongin had tried to use on him the night they met. But unlike Jongin who did not even attempt tasing Jongdae, the android turned on the taser, lightning crackling from the end, and slammed it into Jongdae’s chest. By the sheer force of his willpower and desperate desire to live, Jongdae still remained conscious, only letting out a strangled scream. The android raised their hand in the air again, charged the taser once more again, but before they struck Jongdae a second and a third time and a few more times before he finally fell unconscious, Jongdae looked directly at Jongin and grinned.

“I told you. I don’t fucking lie about family. Your dad and my dad were both my first kill,” Jongdae said, causing Jongin’s hand to fall from the sky and his heart to plummet to the bottom of his chest as he slumped against Yixing’s hands.

“Sorry you had to find out this way, brother.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Yixing has always maintained that you cooperated with us even though you were working with Jongdae,” the Director said. He flicked the lamp hanging above of Jongin, once again forcing Jongin to squint as the light bounced around his face. 

“Is that true?” the Director said, bending down to look Jongin in the eyes, “That your cooperation with Jongdae was just a scheme to give him over to us?”

Jongin looked straight at the Director, making sure to keep eye contact with him as he spoke. 

“Yes. That’s true,” Jongin firmly said. 

The Director paused for a moment before checking the monitor. Jongin slowly breathed, watching as the monitor continued to display his vitals and record nothing but green light.

“He also mentioned that Jongdae approached you with a proposition. He’d reveal the identity of your father’s murderer if you helped him. Is that also true?” the Director asked.

“Yes,” Jongin nodded. 

“Who killed your father, Jongin?” the Director asked, “He told you, didn’t he?”

Jongin took a moment to breathe. It was always hard saying this out loud.

“Kim Jongdae,” he answered.

“And how did that make you feel when he told you?” the Director asked, carefully watching Jongin for any slip in expression, any abrupt change in heartbeat.

“It made me hate him more,” Jongin gritted his teeth, flicking his gaze towards the monitor to check if it was still green. The Director waited for a burst of red, but when nothing else happened, he continued.

“Do you feel any remorse for betraying Jongdae’s trust? For helping us detain him?” the Director asked.

“No,” Jongin said. If the metal cage around his chest hadn’t felt as if it was squeezing him tighter and tighter as every second passed, he would have taken a deep breath.  

“Then explain what happened next. I’m dying to know how you’re going to justify exactly what you did,” the Director said. 

“I took a long break,” Jongin said without thinking. It was the same answer he gave year after year. “That’s all.”

“That’s not all, Jongin,” the Director shook his head, “Don’t lie.”

“But I did take a long break,” Jongin shrugged.

“Tell the truth, Jongin,” the Director said, jabbing his hand towards the monitor, waiting for any discrepancy in his pulse and status to appear.

“But I did,” Jongin said, taking a shallow breath, “After you took Jongdae, I took a long break. That’s the truth.”

 

 

ϟ

 

 

That was a lie.

Or at least a distorted truth.

Jongin had succumbed to unconsciousness after watching Jongdae’s limp body dragged away by the androids. Sleep was a gift, enabling Jongin to rest without remembering the pain, without the reality. It was too bad he wasn’t awake to see how Yixing had stayed with him until the paramedics came, stayed with him as they drove him to the hospital, and stayed with him until he finally awoke three days later.

Three days was not much time to most people, but three days had felt like three months after Jongin finally opened his eyes. 

“Jongin?”

Jongin stirred, wondering why his eyelids felt so heavy. He had occasionally heard that voice as he kept drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness the days before, but this time, he held onto it, used it to anchor him as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Jongin?”

He felt a hand on his, and he turned his palm up, curling his fingers reflexively. 

“Jongin…”

After feeling the hand grip his own tightly, Jongin finally managed to keep his eyes open, finding a shadow hovering over him. He blinked again and found a person he’d missed.

“Yixing?” Jongin asked. 

“Oh, good. You’re awake. I was so worried…You weren’t supposed to stay unconscious for this long since none of your injuries were serious,” Yixing said. 

Yixing clearly underestimated Jongin’s ability to sleep for a thousand years in the hopes that all his problems would magically disappear after he finally awoke.

“Where am I?” Jongin said, looking around the room, feeling suffocated by white. White walls. White sheets. White clothes. There was a strange beeping sound echoing from the corner of the room, but Yixing captured his attention again before Jongin could investigate. 

“I’m dead,” Jongin blinked, “This is heaven.”

“Why do you think that?” Yixing asked, reaching over to push Jongin’s bangs from his face. 

“Because you’re here,” Jongin murmured, closing his eyes, resisting the urge to lean into Yixing’s touch.

Yixing let out a laugh. 

 “That’s just the pain medications you’re on,” Yixing said, slipping his hand out of Jongin’s in order to adjust his blankets.  

“Oh,” Jongin said, blinking blearily, “Then forget you heard that.”

“Too late,” Yixing said, hiding his smile as he bent down to adjust the heat settings on the bed. After making sure Jongin was warm enough, he took a seat beside him. “How are you feeling?” 

Jongin’s mind was still fuzzy, struggling to maintain consciousness, and his body, well. It’d clearly seen better days. 

“Like I fell down ten flights of stairs only to land flat on my face at the bottom,” Jongin managed to answer. 

Yixing leaned back into his chair and rubbed his face. Only now did Jongin notice the dark circles under Yixing’s eyes and the disheveled mess of his hair. 

“I should have protected you more,” Yixing said. 

“I’m stronger than you think,” Jongin said, shifting under the sheets. Yixing had turned on the heat of the blanket slightly too much. “I don’t need that.” 

“You were _shot_ because of me,” Yixing said, exhaling loudly as he removed his hands from his face, “I’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”

Jongin told his brain to shut up before he could say what flashed through his mind.   _Then live with me for the rest of our lives_. Forget lie detectors and androids. Pain medication kept Jongin more honest than the threat of detainment or extermination.  

“I made that choice,” Jongin said, looking up at the ceiling. The hanging lights burned his eyes, causing them to water, so he blinked stars out of his eyes before turning to look at Yixing. This wasn’t the first time they had argued about this, and he was it wouldn’t be the last. “I saw her raise her gun, and I pushed you out of the way. That’s not on you.” 

“But you shouldn’t have had to do that,” Yixing shook his head, “I should’ve taken the shot earlier. I should’ve taken the kill shot when I had the chance.”

“I met her partner, you know,” Jongin said. He blinked hard, but the stars were still blurring his vision. “Her name’s Joohyun. They liked going to the farmer’s market together.” 

Yixing said nothing.

“Don’t sympathize with those people, Jongin,” Yixing chided after a brief pause, “I know you have a soft heart, but the moment you start thinking of these people as anything other than killers is the moment you lose. Everything they tell you is full of lies, and the only truth that concerns them is this: they’re monsters. All of them.”

“You haven’t met them,” Jongin insisted, “You haven’t talked to them.”

Yes, they were killers. But monsters? That was pushing it too far, and in this society, no one had any right to point fingers especially when the government itself approved of murder as long as the right paperwork was approved.

“That’s the problem with you, Jongin,” Yixing sighed, “You and your big heart. The superiors were worried about that in your training, but—” 

“Wait,” Jongin interrupted him, finally throwing off the covers of his bed as he tried to sit up when he remembered. _Remembered_. “What about Jongdae? What’s happened to him?”

Yixing said nothing, unable to meet Jongin’s eyes as he helped him sit up. 

“He’s not dead. Right?” Jongin asked, reaching out to grab Yixing’s arm as he repeated his question one more time after Yixing stayed silent. 

Yixing let out a long breath and reached out to hold Jongin’s hand. 

“Yixing?” Jongin asked, feeling his heart slam into his chest. 

“Jongdae was detained,” Yixing said, “As far as I know, he’s still alive.” 

Jongin slowly exhaled.

“So he’ll stand trial, right?” Jongin said, “Good…That’s good.”

“I don’t know,” Yixing said, causing the slight relief to disappear, “The Director hasn’t updated me with their plans for him. He—” 

Then his phone buzzed, and Yixing stood up, turning his phone away as he checked his messages. His eyes widened after scanning the text, and he quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket. 

“I’ll see you at home? I have to clean up some business with the Director, but I’ll be on the first flight back as soon as I can. We still have…a lot to talk about,” Yixing said as he snatched his jacket off the chair. 

Jongin watched, clutching the sheets in his hands. Hadn’t Yixing forgotten there was no home with both of them concerned? Hadn’t he forgotten that there was no _we_? That there was no _us_?

“See you,” Yixing said, leaning closer as if he was about to hug Jongin. Or kiss him. But at the last moment, he changed his mind and only left a lingering touch on Jongin’s arm.

After the door shut, Jongin collapsed back into the hospital bed and squeezed his eyes shut, finding the white too blinding. Every now and then, nurses offered him more pain medication, but Jongin refused them even if his shoulder throbbed and his body was sore. He needed to be clear minded as he thought of everything that had happened, everything that he had learned. 

So he had a brother. 

A half-brother.

Who had killed his…their father. 

Jongin didn’t even know where to begin, what he could possibly even think. But if Jongdae had known this secret for his whole life, then that would explain why he was so patient with Jongin, why he’d killed for him. And why he’d never even threatened to kill him. 

And now Jongdae was gone. Taken. After everything that had happened, the Director had probably sent Jongdae to extermination if a trial was not given to him. All of the sudden, Jongin struggled to breathe, curling up into the blankets as he thought too much. Jongdae had always insisted that there was no way he’d ever die. Jongin hoped Jongdae wouldn’t find out the hard way that he was wrong, so incredibly wrong about his immortality.

But Jongin hadn’t even managed to ask Jongdae about their father. Jongdae didn’t seem like he was lying when he was talking about his father, but how could that be true? How could his father be cruel and kind at the same time, too? 

Jongin sat up again, his mind already made. He needed to know if Jongdae was alive or not. If he was alive, then Jongin would demand a fair trial for him because it was the least he deserved. Even though their justice system didn’t know what fair meant. But if he was dead, then Jongin would stop believing in gods who masked their mortality with lies. 

A few nurses insisted that he needed to rest a while longer, but Jongin stubbornly pulled himself out of bed and clutched his shoulder with a hiss after feeling a jolt of pain. After signing himself out of the hospital, he picked up his belongings. His wallet, the burner phone he’d used, and a flash drive. Jongin picked it up and checked the label. 

AND_BACKUP_LOG 

Jongin didn’t know what that meant, but he could always use it as leverage if the Director refused to give him his old job back. Or if he wanted Jongdae dead.  

After stepping out of the hospital, Jongin hurried to the airport after buying a ridiculously priced same day flight home, knowing the Director wouldn’t waste time to decide Jongdae’s fate. He didn’t dare go back to this city’s branch building, but he could always try the A.S.S. branch in his own home city. During the ride there, he took out the phone, surprised it had any battery left, and dialed a number he knew by heart. He waited, counting the rings until the call was sent to voicemail. 

“Hi mom,” Jongin said after the robotic voice gave him the cue to record his message, “It’s Jongin…Sorry I keep calling with an unknown number. I just wanted to ask how you were doing. I hope you’ve been eating well and getting the rest you deserve…I’m doing fine, and—”

He paused, hoping that the buzz of his bracelet couldn’t be heard through the message. 

“And I want you to know that I love you,” Jongin continued, “I love you, and I promise I’ll visit soon.”

He hung up, and after arriving at the airport, he finally threw the phone away before heading inside the terminal. Though he felt as if every android was watching him, all knowing what he had done, he wasn’t worried about passing through security because he had no more reasons to lie.

“What is your reason for travel?” the android asked him after he handed them his passport and identified himself. 

“I’m going home,” Jongin said, keeping his wrist raised.

“Then why were you here?” the android asked him. 

“Business. Work related things,” Jongin effortlessly answered just like he had been taught.   

“Have a good flight,” the android said after checking the color of Jongin’s bracelet, “I hope you do not crash.” 

Jongin thanked the android before hurrying to his terminal, resisting the urge to run after spotting paramedics dragging an orange stretcher behind them. He then wondered if all assassins used similar protocols to travel without being detained. But before he had a chance to find out or get caught in the possible crossfire, he walked way, having had experienced enough chaos to last a lifetime. 

After boarding his flight, Jongin sat still and pretended like everything was normal, like he hadn’t gone on a long adventure with an assassin across the world, like he wasn’t related by blood to his father’s killer. Yeah. Everything was fine. Everything was absolutely fine.

He managed to keep that attitude even after stepping off the plane hours later. Though he should have headed straight home to rest and recover, he hailed another taxi and drove to his office instead. Lunch had ended hours ago, so there was no line to wait in, no one to hide behind as Jongin approached the checkpoint. 

“Why are you here?” the android asked. 

“I work here,” Jongin said. He hadn’t been fired yet, so this was still the truth. 

“Yes, but why have you returned now?” the android asked, “Lunch was over hours ago.”

“I need a piece of data,” Jongin said, almost surprised to find it easier to maintain the line between lie and truth, “It’s important to me.”

“Name?” the android asked. 

“Kim Jongin,” Jongin said.

“Jongin?” the android asked, blinking as their eyes scanned him, “You are not authorized to be here for at least another week. Go home. Or else.”

“What do you mean?” Jongin asked, folding his arms across his chest. A week ago, he would’ve apologized and ran off before the android had a chance to threaten him with detainment or worse. But after being shot at and choked out by much deadlier androids, Jongin wasn’t even the slightest bit scared of this one. 

“We have strict orders from the Director to allocate you a week’s worth of rest before you are allowed to come back,” the android responded.

Jongin was sure that was an excuse to bench him for a week and prevent him from interfering with whatever they were planning.

“Let me in,” Jongin insisted, taking another step forward, “I work here. I’m telling the truth.” 

“Yes, but we have orders from the Director,” the android said.

Jongin hesitated, checking his surroundings before attempting something dangerous.

“Initiate kill sequence,” he ordered, remembering the string of commands the Director had used, “Execute arrest.” 

“Kill sequence activated,” the android stated, its eyes flickering red. As they pulled out a gun, Jongin cleared his throat and screamed, running as fast as he could towards the elevator.

“There’s a rogue android,” Jongin hysterically cried out, playing the part of innocent civilian. 

The human guards ran towards the android, shouting confused orders into their comms. The few employees and civilians waiting around the lobby screamed, racing out the door as fast as they could. In the chaos, Jongin slipped inside the elevator, waiting until the doors closed to slump against the wall and let out a loud sigh. 

With the Director and Yixing still at their other branch location, Jongin wasn’t worried about posing any threat to security or breaching any protocol and all but waltzed into the A.S.S. office. During his absence, the office had been repaired since Jongdae destroyed it. Jongin looked through the windows before hiding in the halls, waiting for his co-workers to attend their daily meeting.

Easy. This was too easy. With the proper knowledge and skills, he could get away with anything. Perhaps this was how Jongdae felt while he was working a job and everything conveniently happened in his favor.

After he was sure his co-workers were huddled in their conference room with the blinds closed, he snuck inside the A.S.S. office space. Everything looked like it had before the explosion, but Jongin didn’t have time to admire new desks and windows, too busy sneaking inside the computer room. Luckily, his authorization code and password still worked.

Jongin looked behind him before logging into the database and searching for Jongdae’s file.

A blurry picture of Jongdae was projected across the screen. Jongin stared, wondering if this was really the clearest picture of Jongdae A.S.S. had. Jongdae had that familiar black scarf wrapped around his neck, headphones over his ears, and sunglasses concealing his eyes. After realizing he’d spent too much time staring, Jongin turned his attention to the text below the picture. 

STATUS: PENDING 

Pending? 

What did that mean?

Pending…They hadn’t killed him yet, right? Or had they already put a bullet through his head forgot to tell the intern in charge of data entry?

Jongin scrolled down, reading the rest of the file. He hadn’t been assigned to Jongdae’s case, so he’d never read his file. 

Confirmed Kills: 50

Unconfirmed Kills: Unknown. Possibly in the hundreds.

Parents: Deceased

Jongin read the entire file, unsatisfied with what he had found. But he didn’t know what other database he could search, and he thought he’d heard a door opening outside, so he quickly erased the archive history and fled before he pushed his luck too far.   

After taking the elevator back down to the lobby, Jongin looked around, the previous android gone. There was no sign of any police involvement, no sign of any casualties, and the rogue android had been replaced by human guards. He passed a facility worker on the way out, and for old time’s sake, he stopped and copied something he’d seen before. 

“We’re having a fire drill soon,” Jongin whispered to the worker. 

“Oh, yes!” the man beamed, “I’ve been warned of that. Thank you for letting me know.”

“When you hear the word fire, pull the alarms,” Jongin said, “I’m sure the Director will be very pleased if the response time is instantaneous.” 

“I will keep that in mind! Thank you,” the man nodded. 

Jongin shot finger guns at the cleaner and walked outside, feeling emptier than he had felt a moment ago. 

As Jongin walked home, eyeing the bracelets of everyone who passed by him, he wondered how many others could lie as well as Jongdae could. How many were lying right now. 

As he passed by the courthouse, he stopped for a moment, watching the flock of reporters crowded around the steps. Different news stations reported all at the same time, so it was difficult to pick out anything coherent from the cacophony of voices. Jongin stepped closer, trying to follow one reporter’s words. 

“We are live here today at the final hearing of a celebrity who had a petition filed against them three years ago,” the reporter gravely said, maintaining a neutral expression, “After endless court dates and hearings, the jury has found the petition acceptable and has granted extermination. We are receiving reports from inside the courthouse that the star has passed away a few minutes ago.” 

Passed away? 

Murdered. 

Jongin backed away as he processed the news, gasping before breaking into a sprint and fleeing. 

Don’t lie. Don’t do anything to provoke a petition. But the only thing these laws actually did was promote an atmosphere of fear. People hysterically apologizing anytime they accidentally bumped into each other. People threatening to file a petition if they didn’t get what they wanted. People too afraid to step outside of their homes because living loudly, living like they wanted, was a death sentence if they met the wrong people. 

The Director could order the deaths of assassins who ignored protocol and killed for others who didn’t want to wait or fill out paperwork, but didn’t he know that if he wanted every killer dead, the earth’s population would be halved in seconds? Some killed with a pencil, others with a gun. But murder was still murder, and the truth still felt like a lie.

Jongin finally slowed down, trudging through the streets as the sun plummeted from the horizon. Dim street lights flickered on, and in the darkness, the bracelets of everyone around him glowed even brighter. In the distance, Jongin thought he saw a red light streak across the road. He didn’t stop to watch, heading into a restaurant to pick up some food. As he paid, a waiter suddenly burst into tears behind him. He turned around, watching them beg for forgiveness after accidentally knocking another customer’s bowl of soup off the table. 

"Please don't file a petition against me," they said between tears, "I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry...I'm so _sorry_." 

Jongin hastily snatched up his food and left, not wanting to see how that would end. He hoped he wouldn’t see that waiter’s name scrawled on a petition after he came back to work.    

Work…

Assuming Jongin hadn’t been fired, he really had no desire to return to D.O.U.C.H.E. A.S.S. was also out of the question after his involvement with Jongdae. But that seemed like a problem for another day, and right now, all Jongin wanted to do was finally go home, eat his dinner, and sleep for another three days. He’d take one nice, long break, and then think about Jongdae afterwards.

Or at least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. Once he reached the hallway of his apartment floor, he was struck by the silence. No neighbor telling him to shut up. No rock music. No obnoxiously banging drums. No singing. No Jongdae. 

As he walked towards his door, he briefly wondered what it would’ve been like if he’d grown up with Jongdae. His mother would have welcomed another son, another child to love, without a doubt. His sisters would have liked another brother to tease. And he would’ve liked an older brother, too.

A brother he could be proud of instead of a stranger he hated. 

With a sigh, Jongin shook the dreams from his mind and fished his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. The tinkling copper was the only sound that disrupted the deep silence of the hallway. 

Jongin swung open the door, letting the light from the hallway spill into the abyss inside. He closed the door behind him, and with his back turned to the living room, leaned on the wall to support himself as he took off his shoes. Letting out a yawn, he set his dinner on the table beside the door and stretched. 

That’s when he heard the click.

The sound of a lamp switching on. 

Jongin froze, regretting that he hadn’t stolen a gun from A.S.S. while he was there. He slowly turned around, wondering if it was an android sent by the Director to exterminate him, if it was Yixing who’d decided to surprise him after coming home earlier than expected, or if it was his mother who’d had enough of his mysterious calls and unusual silence. 

But honestly, after staring into his living room, he should have known. 

He should have seen this coming ever since he took that flight home, ever since he woke up from that hospital bed, and especially ever since he watched Jongdae snatched away right in front of his eyes. 

So really, he shouldn’t have been this surprised to see a stranger with long legs and broad, leather jacket-clad shoulders sitting on his couch. The dim lighting of the lamp beside him still hid most of his body and face in the shadows, but there was no way Jongin was that foolish to not realize who this was. Jongin’s suspicions were confirmed when he finally noticed the gun pointed straight at him and when the stranger curtly addressed him with a curse. 

“Where the _fuck_ is my husband?”  

 

 

ϟ

 

 

“Tell me about Oh Sehun,” the Director demanded.

Jongin blinked the past out of his eyes and looked up to face his present. 

“Jongdae’s husband,” Jongin said, “Stone cold guy who doesn’t smile. Doesn’t care about anyone but Jongdae.”

“No, no…give me his statistics. Word it like an A.S.S. report,” the Director said.  

Jongin raised a single eyebrow and gave the Director a look.  

“You kicked me out of A.S.S., so I wouldn’t know what status reports are like anymore. Sorry,” Jongin said. This was the wrong time to be uncooperative, but Jongin couldn’t help it if he was still bitter about that.   

“Just…” the Director said, struggling not to seem affected by Jongin’s words. He clenched a fist tightly before exhaling and letting go. “Tell me what you know about him. Approach him like a case, not a person.”

“That’s why you’ve failed to capture so many assassins,” Jongin said, “You’re thinking of them as statistics and numbers. Not people.”

“They’re not people,” the Director said, gesticulating violently as he argued, “they’re _killers_. Monsters that deserve to be hunted and put down.” 

He banged his fist down onto the table as if that would be enough to change Jongin’s mind.

“That’s funny coming from you,” Jongin said, tilting his head as he spoke, “Haven’t you killed, too? Haven’t you allowed others to kill, too? Haven’t you asked people to kill for you, die for you, too? If you hate assassins that much, then file a petition. I’m sure it’ll be approved, and you’ll be able to murder them with your own two hands in ten years or so.”

“That’s not the point, Jongin,” the Director snapped. 

Interrogations were a game, and frankly the first person who showed any discomfort lost. Jongin reveled in this victory for a moment before it was his turn to try and keep his composure.

“You’re avoiding the point. You’ve told the truth so far, but this is where it gets tricky, Jongin,” the Director said. 

Jongin swallowed. He’d survived two interrogations the past, so he could survive this one, too.

“You helped Jongdae once,” the Director announced, making a show of picking up Jongin’s file and scanning through it once more even though Jongin was sure the Director had memorized it. He was obsessed with this case after all, obsessed with every detail, every truth, every lie. “Sehun once. By doing so, you’ve sided against us.”

“And what about it?” Jongin said, “Sehun threatened to kill me if I didn’t help him.”

“You are an A.S.S.-trained agent,” the Director said, closing the folder and throwing it back onto the table, “I hoped that your training would have made it easier for you to defend yourself.” 

“Then you clearly have learned nothing from every encounter against him. You took his husband,” Jongin said, “Don’t you know what he’d do to get him back?”

“You tell me,” the Director said, pressing his palms on the table and leaning towards Jongin, “since you helped him.”

Jongin gritted his teeth, feeling his heart slightly race a little faster. He struggled to take an even breath as he watched the Director’s lips curl after the monitor beeped, signaling a change in his heart. 

"I _was_ an A.S.S trained agent," Jongin finally spoke, forcing himself to maintain his composure. He took his time to choose his words carefully, aware of the consequences that even using the wrong synonym with different connotations here or there would have. "That’s true. I fought Sehun when he was in my apartment but gave up after he quickly overpowered me." 

He stared at the Director, not needing to know that the screen hadn't changed, the green hadn’t gave way to red. 

Because he was telling the truth. 

Because it was the truth. 

It. Was. 

The Director monitored the pulse flicking up and down the screen and the accuracy of Jongin's words before nodding. 

"Go on," he ordered.

 

 

ϟ

 

 

Back in Jongin’s dimly lit apartment, it was only after the man had repeated his words a second time that Jongin finally realized the extent of the deep trouble he had found himself in. And honestly, he'd rather face a hundred A.S.S. trained agents and a thousand androids than face this man with nothing but his takeout bag as a weapon. There was nothing but screeching sirens and blaring alarms harmonizing in Jongin’s mind, accompanied with repeated swears that he’d never dare say aloud.

He stared at the stranger on his couch, the keys tumbling out of his slack grasp. They crashed on the floor, the jingle disrupting the tense silence that had settled. 

Jongin opened his mouth and tried to speak, tried to say something at all. A simple _hello_. A timid _can I get you a drink?_ And a very heartfelt _I'm so sorry please don't kill me._

But Jongin’s throat was dry, and he almost forgot how words worked, how anything at all worked because there was an angry man. On his couch. With a _gun_. Realistically, Jongin was probably the worst A.S.S. agent of all time given his tendency to freeze in dangerous situations. It had been a miracle he hadn’t managed to get shot sooner than he did.

As the man leapt off the couch and strode up to Jongin, the alarms going off in his head only screeched louder and louder. With those long legs, it took the man only three seconds to stand right in front of Jongin, one to grab him by the collar, and none at all as he pressed the gun to Jongin's forehead.

"I'm going to give you three seconds before I blow your fucking head off," the man said, leaning closer to Jongin, who felt his heart leap out of his chest and lodge itself in his throat. 

"Where. Is. My. Husband," the man continued. The lighting was dim, but Jongin could see the promise in the man's glare, the fury in those furrowed eyebrows, and knew he would not only be jobless, but also headless in about a split second if he didn't say something soon.

And because he also had no sense of self-preservation in stressful situations, he could only manage to squeak out a hoarse string of words that would never, ever satisfy the man in front of him.

"Hey, Sehun," Jongin said in a small voice, "What's up."

Sehun stared at Jongin for a second as if he was considering whether or not Jongin had really said that before he snarled and shoved him towards the light of the living room. Jongin stumbled onto the floor and scrambled backwards as Sehun stalked towards him, gun still raised and aimed at Jongin’s heart. 

Jongin recalled the moments he had seen rage in its rawest, most explosive manifestations. He remembered his mother when he was in high school after she’d found the test he was trying to hide from her, a test that he had failed because he had been playing outside with his friends instead of studying. His sisters after he had washed a bright red shirt with their favorite white clothes.

And now this. 

Jongin’s heart accelerated for all the wrong reasons as he watched this display of barely contained rage right in front of him. If this was who Jongin thought he was, then he was sure even death wouldn’t dare look at him straight in the eyes.

"What's up?" Sehun spat, tearing into Jongin with a pointed tone, "That's all you can fucking say to me?" 

He stepped in front of Jongin and continued pointing his gun at Jongin’s head. Jongin knew better than to try and struggle, to try and disarm him at the moment. He'd seen Jongdae easily fight a few androids and agents at the same time, so what could he do as one man? One defenseless man with no gun and too much heart to even try and argue. Because he had this coming. All of this. 

"I came home to an empty house," Sehun darkly said, gripping his gun so hard that his knuckles popped from his skin, "We were supposed to meet again after five days. And he never failed to at least contact me if he was going to be late." 

"You know, I—" Jongin stammered. 

"Shut the _fuck_ up," Sehun said a little louder. Jongin slowly raised his hands in the air and pressed his lips together. Would begging save his life? Would trying anything to save his life mean something if he was already condemned?   

"Then I got a call," Sehun said, his voice beginning to tremble with some emotion Jongin couldn't recognize. He thought it was that same fury at first, but after Jongin looked away from the barrel of the gun, he found red not on the bracelet on Sehun’s wrist, but in those bloodshot eyes.  

"I got a call from Joohyun," Sehun tried again, his words piercing Jongin. He winced, unable to imagine how Joohyun must have surely reacted after realizing he was not only directly involved with Seulgi’s death, but also with Jongdae’s detainment. "That Jongdae had been taken by your people, dragged away unconscious, taken to who knows where.” 

"I—" Jongin tried to say. The words died again as Sehun cut him off with a tilt of his head and a piercing glare, one that surely must have asked him if he really had the actual audacity to speak right now. 

"All we had to do was one final job, you know...One final job and then we'd leave this life behind us to retire. Start a family. Live in peace," Sehun said, taking a shaky breath. Jongin knew what was good for him, so he shut up at last and listened. 

"I told him we should finish this last job together to make things easier, but he insisted on coming to you for help. I told him this was a bad idea...possibly the worst idea he'd had in a long time. But no. He wanted you. And look where you've gotten him," Sehun said, exhaling slowly, “And now he’s gone.” 

Jongin waited for Sehun to continue speaking, not wanting to cut him off and risk more anger. But after Sehun fell silent and only stared up at the ceiling blinking hard, Jongin softly spoke. 

"I didn't want him to be taken away like that," Jongin said at last.

"Well, you certainly didn't do anything to help," Sehun snapped, throwing another look at Jongin.  

" _Listen_ ," Jongin slowly said a little louder, "I'm sorry for what happened to Jongdae. I really am."

"I don't believe you," Sehun said, taking a step closer, his gun still raised. 

"Believe this," Jongin said, raising his wristband to show the green light.

"This?" Sehun said, raising his left hand to show his own green light, "This doesn't fucking mean anything. You know how easy it is to lie and beat this test?" 

No, it really wasn't. Before knowing Jongdae and Sehun, Jongin didn't even think it was possible.

"I love Jongin, and I forgive him for every single goddamn thing he's ever done to me," Sehun said, keeping his wrist in the air, "I would never attack him, never lay a finger on his pretty little head, and the last thing I want to do is put a bullet through his brain and a knife through his heart."

He raised an eyebrow and stuck out his wrist to show Jongin that his bracelet hadn’t even flickered at all. Jongin winced at the lies that Sehun had told and thought it was a miracle he wasn't actually dead yet. 

“Please don’t kill me,” Jongin blurted out.   

Sehun stared at him, gaze flicking up and down before he let out a scoff. 

“If I wanted you to be dead, you’d be dead,” Sehun said, moving his hand slightly before pulling the trigger. Jongin squeezed his eyes shut and almost swore, though he only let out a startled yell. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Jongin said, lifting his hands slowly from his head, his turn to shoot Sehun an offended look. He turned around, finding a bullet hole in the couch an inch away from his head. “The neighbors will call the police after hearing that.” 

“No, they won’t, Sehun said, finally beginning to slowly lower his gun, “No one wants unnecessary attention brought to them for no reason. Because attention means more people know you. And the more people that know you, the more opportunities there are to file a petition. And a petition means death.” 

“Only if it’s approved,” Jongin tried to correct Sehun. 

“Does it matter?” Sehun asked, “A petition is a death sentence to some.” 

“Well, how many people know you?” Jongin asked, sitting up straight after it was clear he wouldn’t be dying in the next minute. Five if he was lucky. “I’m sure someone’s out there scribbling a petition for you in retribution for all the people you’ve killed.”

At last, the beginning of a smile. A small sliver of a smile that tugged Sehun’s lips slightly upwards. 

“I don’t know anyone but Jongdae,” Sehun said, “and I’m invisible, so I’m safe.”

“I’ll do it,” Jongin said, finding his hands slightly shaking from surviving that near-death experience, “I’ll file a petition for your extermination. I’ll tell them you broke into my house without a word and tried to kill me.” 

“Do it yourself and put a bullet in my head,” Sehun snorted, finally sinking into the seat of the couch across from Jongin, “It’s faster.” 

Jongin glared and scrambled to his feet, warily sitting down in front of Sehun and watching him for any sudden moves. God, he wish he had a weapon. The only thing around him that he could possibly use as a weapon was a soft throw pillow, and he doubted that would do anything. 

If Jongin ever survived this, he’d have a word with the security desk and the landlord for allowing not one, but two assassins to so easily break into his apartment. 

If. 

“If you won’t kill me,” Jongin hesitantly said, “yet…Then why are you here?” 

A deep scowl dragged Sehun’s lips down and twisted his expression.

“For help,” Sehun said. If looks could kill, Jongin would’ve died the second Sehun first looked at him. “You’re helping me get Jongdae back. Or else.” 

Jongin didn’t have to ask to know what or else meant. 

“Okay,” Jongin answered faster than he himself expected, “I’ll help. Actually…I was going to do it myself. Not break him out but at least...break in to make sure he was still alive.” 

He surprised himself with his answer, but really, he’d never be able to sleep again, haunted by that last image of Jongdae taken away, if he didn’t confirm if Jongdae was alive or dead.

“Someone like you breaking into their facilities on your own?” Sehun said, letting out a small laugh, “I bet you’ve never even killed anyone. And where we’re going…What we’re doing. If you’re not ready to kill to get him out, then—”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Jongin said, “We can shoot them in nonfatal places if we have to.” 

“So they’ll get back up and kill us? I don’t think so,” Sehun shook his head. He placed the gun beside him and crossed his arms, but Jongin was still wary and still saw death looming in the shadows in front of him, waiting for the second Sehun would pull the trigger.   

“It doesn’t have to go that far,” Jongin said a little softer, “It never does.”

“It does,” Sehun insisted, “It did the moment they took Jongdae.” 

“So you’d do anything to get him back,” Jongin said, stating the obvious.  

“I’d kill anyone. Even you if I had to,” Sehun said without blinking. Jongin didn’t doubt that.

“I don’t think Jongdae would appreciate that,” Jongin said, trying to barter for his own life in case things went bad.

“Why’s that?” Sehun entertained him.

“Because he’s my brother,” Jongin said. 

It wasn’t any easier to say out loud.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sehun said, covering his face with a hand, “He told you? He said he wasn’t going to.” 

Then he dragged his hand from his face, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Jongin. 

“What the fuck type of a situation did you put in him if he told you that?” Sehun asked. 

Jongin squirmed. When he had first met Jongdae, he’d feared for his life because he wasn’t sure if Jongdae would stab him in the back when he wasn’t looking. But with Sehun, Jongin’s mind was constantly buzzing with alarms, always feeling like he was unsafe. Sehun would probably kill him, and he’d want him to see it coming. 

“He told me right before they took him,” Jongin said. 

Sehun closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his face again. Jongin glanced at the gun beside Sehun and wondered if he was fast enough to take it.

“I’ll make it right,” Jongin said, “I’ll help you. He deserves a fair trial at least.”

“He’s not going with you. He’s coming with me when we get him,” Sehun glared between his fingers.   

Jongin faltered, knowing it was wise not to disagree with Sehun now.   

“So what’s the plan?” Jongin asked. 

“I don’t trust you, but having your credentials would make this easier,” Sehun said, “Your uglyass D.O.U.C.H.E. A.S.S. credentials. Fuck. And you think we’re the only killers out there? Look in a fucking mirror." 

“I’ll help you. And I won’t even try and take you in,” Jongin said, ignoring the jabs. 

Sehun stared at him in silence for a second before a laugh bubbled out of his chest. 

“You think I’ll really fucking fall for that? You’ve given me no reason to trust you,” Sehun said, “Maybe I’ll just steal your thumb or your eye if you need that for security ID.” 

Jongin paled before remembering something, reaching into his pocket and taking out a ring.   

“Will you trust this?” he asked.

“Where the fuck did you get that?” Sehun gasped, his eyes widening.

“Jongdae gave it to me,” Jongin said. 

“I don’t believe you,” Sehun said, darting off the couch to snatch it out of Jongin’s hands. He raised it to the light for a moment before closing his hand around it. 

“He said to tell you that death’s…a tough…bully that he’d fight to come back to you,” Jongin paraphrased, not wanting to swear.

Sehun closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He sank back down on the couch and continued to clutch the ring, the gun forgotten beside him. Jongin didn’t do anything but let him sit there because an immobile, silent Sehun was a safe Sehun. After a while, Sehun opened his eyes and undid a silver chain around his neck. He placed the ring through it, redid the clasp, and tucked it back under his shirt before staring at Jongin for another moment. His eyebrows had furrowed again, but the rage had been slightly extinguished.   

“We go in and go out with Jongdae,” Sehun said, “That’s all.”

“I…” Jongin said, “Jongdae was better at describing plans.”

“I’m not Jongdae,” Sehun said, crossing his arms, “You need to know what to do, and I’m not going to hold your hand the whole way.”

“I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what it is…we’re doing,” Jongin protested.

“God. It’s so hard working with people who aren’t Jongdae,” Sehun huffed before he continued, “Obviously, we’ll need your credentials to sneak in without any attention.”

“Are we doing what Jongdae and I did?” Jongin said, “We did recon with me alone first at my building. Then recon together at another building.” 

“We don’t have time for recon,” Sehun said, waving his suggestion away, “We go in and go out.” 

“See, you’re being vague again,” Jongin said, knowing that the chance of dying on this job had been multiplied by a million if Sehun worked like this, “What are the steps? Do we have to disable the security system? Do we have to watch for guards? How do we time our movement?” 

With Jongdae, it was easy. Jongdae had a schedule for everything, had explained how many guards there were, what they needed to do to bypass security. With Jongdae, Jongin didn’t even have to lift a finger most of the time and watch as Jongdae took down every guard and android by himself. But Sehun assumed Jongin could actually handle himself in a high-pressure situation, which was not his mistake, but Jongin’s end. 

Sehun gave Jongin a very long look of disapproval and shook his head. 

“Useless,” Sehun muttered, “I don’t know why he insisted on using your help when you know nothing and do nothing.” 

“I guess he had his reasons,” Jongin said. 

“Right,” Sehun let out a long exhale. He stood to pick up a piece of paper on Jongin’s coffee table, and without checking to see if it was important even though Jongin was sure it was his monthly bill for rent, picked up a pen and began writing.

“One,” Sehun said, sitting down by the coffee table, “Break into the facility.” 

“That’s so helpful,” Jongin said, cautiously edging closer to look at the words Sehun wrote. Not that he could understand because Sehun’s handwriting was messier than this whole entire situation. “Thanks for this fantastic visual.”

“Two,” Sehun said, writing something incomprehensible, “Find Jongdae and escape.” 

“Thanks for making that clear,” Jongin said, “I thought we were there for leisure time and a tour of the android department.” 

Sehun looked up and glared. 

“Three,” he said, “Don’t die.” 

He underlined that part multiple times. 

“There are androids to avoid. Agents to avoid,” Sehun continued, “I don’t know which one would be easier for you to face given your obvious lack of experience, but don’t get in my way, don’t do anything stupid, and you’ll be fine. I suspect I’ll be doing most of the work anyways.” 

Jongin remembered Jongdae telling him something similar a while ago, though obviously in a nicer way. For a moment, he stared into nowhere and sank into the past as Sehun continued writing something unintelligible on the paper. Realistically, it was probably a list of possible ways he’d kill Jongin.   

“He saved my life a lot of times, you know,” Jongin said out of nowhere, “He didn’t have to, but he did.” 

“That’s the type of person he is,” Sehun said, refusing to look at Jongin, continuing to scribble on the paper, “If he loves you, he’ll do anything for you. “

Jongin looked up at the sound of that word. Love. That was impossible. 

“But I don’t know him,” Jongin said, “and he doesn’t know me either. He can’t feel that.” 

“Well, you’re related to him,” Sehun said, beginning to doodle a round shape, “He’s probably got it into his head that you’re some sort of family.” 

“He said you’re his only family,” Jongin said, watching as Sehun quickly finished a rough sketch of someone’s face. 

“Now that makes things complicated now, doesn’t it,” Sehun said, casting him another judgmental look. After he drew a big X through the face, Jongin knew whose likeness the picture was supposed to have. 

“Did you always know about me?” Jongin asked, cautiously sitting down in front of Sehun, “Or did he recently sit you down and say hey. Guess what. I have a half-brother I’ve never talked to. By the way, I killed our dad.” 

He didn’t mean for it to sound so bitter, but there that truth was again, striking Jongin’s heart again. It was thanks to Jongdae that Jongin grew up wondering why his father had left one day and never come back.   

Sehun lifted his pen from the paper and looked at him for so long that Jongin averted his gaze, uncomfortable with the silence and the staring. 

“Focus on the plan,” Sehun said at last, jabbing his finger on the paper instead, “So you don’t mess up when we start.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jongin sighed, “Go in. Get Jongdae. Get out.” 

“And don’t die,” Sehun said, underlining the last part of the plan once again and drawing a star next to it, “But that’s easy since we’re here for Jongdae. We have no reason to die.” 

“You and Jongdae say the same,” Jongin muttered, “but it’s harder than it looks.” 

“Of course it is,” Sehun said, “But there’s no way I’ll die before I save Jongdae and before we can live our lives like we want.”

“You’re so confident,” Jongin said, “What if things don’t go your way? An android might accidentally shoot you while you’re not looking. Someone might file a petition.” 

That someone was Jongin if tonight was not his last night breathing. 

“Who the fuck do you take me for?” Sehun sent him another withering look, “If Jongdae says stay alive, then I stay alive, and if I tell him to stay alive, he’ll stay alive. That’s that. So repeat the plan to me again. We can’t get it wrong.” 

“There’s not much of a plan to repeat,” Jongin grumbled. He was going nowhere with this and gave up. Maybe tomorrow he could wrestle a proper plan and specific instructions out of Sehun. But for now, he was done. As he stood up to stretch, he found Sehun’s gun still laying on the couch and wondered if he could take it right now and save himself. 

“I’m…going to sleep,” Jongin said instead, pointing towards his room. He’d sleep with the door locked tonight, not that it would stop Sehun if he wanted to kill Jongin. Jongin was considerably less afraid for his life, but that didn’t mean he trusted Sehun. Not at all.

“I’m staying here so you don’t try to escape,” Sehun said, returning his attention to the paper, “We’re leaving first thing in the morning to the airport.” 

“Okay,” Jongin said. If Sehun worked like Jongdae worked, then Jongin would expect waking up at another ungodly hour again.  

Jongin headed to his room, but just as he was about to close the door, he looked out into the living room and found Sehun sitting by himself on the floor. He had dropped the pen and held his bracelet out, tapping a few buttons before projecting a holographic picture of him and Jongdae together, smiling. In this light and from this angle, Sehun seemed younger than he really was, smaller than he really was. 

Before Jongin could realize what he was doing, he took out a blanket from his closet and approached Sehun slowly, mindful of any sudden attacks. But Sehun was still sitting there, broad shoulders hunched over as he swiped through picture after picture of Jongdae. 

Jongin lightly touched Sehun’s shoulder, causing Sehun to jump back, turn off his bracelet, and pull a knife out of nowhere.

“Don’t touch me,” Sehun said. 

“Sorry,” Jongin said, snatching his hand back so fast as if he’d been burned. He looked down at the knife and didn’t like the distorted reflection of himself he saw. 

“I brought you a blanket. In case it might get cold,” Jongin said in a small voice, slowly holding out the blanket.

Sehun stared at the blanket for a moment and reached out to touch it, his fingers curling around the fabric. He didn’t say thank you, didn’t offer him a smile, but the slight nod was enough for Jongin to convince himself he would not be killed in his sleep tonight.

 

 

ϟ ϟ ϟ

 

 

The next morning, Jongin woke up to his blanket snatched away from him and a gun pointed in his face. 

“Is that really necessary?” Jongin blearily groaned, staring at the barrel of the gun. Sehun’s finger was on the trigger, and Jongin was sure the gun was loaded. 

“Yeah,” Sehun nonchalantly said, looking as if he had already showered and changed. “The adrenaline will wake you up faster.” 

Jongin pressed his hands over his eyes and pretended this was all a dream. He hated to admit it, but Sehun was right. He was wide awake after seeing that gun in his face. 

“Let’s go,” Sehun said. Jongin felt a hand on his shoulder shake him, and as he opened one eye, he found his bedroom door wide open. 

“I locked. The door,” Jongin said, hugging the pillow to his chest for an extra line of defense. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I picked it. Easily,” Sehun said, “Now let’s go. We have to catch our flight.” 

Jongin let out another groan and rolled over on his side. Three seconds later, he found himself on the floor after Sehun gave him a hard shove. Thirteen minutes later, he was in a taxi clutching his bag, his turn to glare at Sehun who smugly sat next to him with his hands crossed across his chest. The ride to the airport was insufferably long, since traffic was at its peak around the airport area. As they crawled by the streets, a very deep, uncomfortable silence filled the space between them. Sehun wasn’t much of a talker at all, so Jongin closed his eyes and tried to sleep, only to jolt awake every time Sehun poked him.

“Can you stop that?” Jongin demanded. 

“You shouldn’t be unconscious in a public space,” Sehun said, “It leaves you vulnerable. You should know better.” 

“I haven’t done anything wrong, so there’s no reason for me to care,” Jongin said, squeezing his eyes shut again to spite him. 

“Accidents happen,” Sehun said, “Offenses can be taken.” 

“You only want me to stay awake because you don’t like me, right?” Jongin muttered, forced to open his eyes after the constant prodding at his side. 

Sehun said nothing, but Jongin saw a hint of a smile on his face before he turned away and stared out the window. Now forced to stay awake, Jongin studied Sehun who kept his hands in his lap. His hands didn’t have any scars on them, any blood stains on them, and a familiar silver ruby ring rested on Sehun’s fourth finger. They didn’t look like a killer’s hands, that’s for sure. But Sehun also didn’t look like a killer. From here, he only looked like any average young man on his way to the airport for a holiday vacation. 

“Did you propose, or did Jongdae?” Jongin asked, gaze lingering on the ring.

Sehun turned away from the window and lifted up his hand, adjusting his ring with a smile.   

“Jongdae did,” Sehun said, “I’m lucky I have him.” 

“He says the same thing about you,” Jongin said.

“If I didn’t have him, I wouldn’t be alive,” Sehun shook his head, still staring at the ring, “I’d only be surviving day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. He puts the life in me.” 

“How did he propose?” Jongin asked. 

Sehun’s lips twitched, and his smile grew bigger. It was clear Jongdae and Sehun liked nothing more than talking about each other. 

“Why the fuck should I tell you? That’s between us,” Sehun said, though he continued to smile. 

At this point, Jongin wasn’t sure who swore more between Sehun and Jongdae, but he didn’t care to find out. 

“All right, all right,” Jongin said, turning away to look outside his own window, “Just trying to make conversation.” 

Another long silence settled between them, a silence that Jongin used to self-reflect and wonder how he managed to find himself in the company of another assassin in a taxi traveling to the city he had just left. If he had known Sehun was going to hold him at gunpoint and drag him back, Jongin wouldn’t have bothered leaving the hospital.

A hundred meters from the airport, Sehun stopped the taxi after growing tired of being parked in the middle of the road, victims to traffic. He paid in cash, not bracelet credit, and stepped out the taxi and walked away without saying a word to Jongin. Sehun didn’t explain, never explained what he was doing, why he was doing anything, so Jongin sighed and broke out into a slight jog. After catching up to Sehun, they walked in silence again until they reached the airport.   

“You know how to lie, right?” Sehun asked. 

“No?” Jongin said, keeping his voice down as they passed a few android guards and civilians hauling luggage out of their cars, “Why would I know how? No one knows how.” 

Except Jongdae. 

And Sehun. 

“You’re telling me you spent all that time with Jongdae, and you still don’t know how to lie?” Sehun asked.

Jongin offered him a sheepish smile in response.

“What do you know about lying?” Sehun asked after rolling his eyes. 

“Speak the lie with confidence. Believe it’s the truth,” Jongin said. 

“I guess that’s Jongdae’s approach,” Sehun said, stepping aside to avoid being hit by a trolley carrying a tower of luggage. “But obviously it fails since you have no confidence. My way’s easier and guarantees success.” 

“Oh?” Jongin said, “What’s your method? Anything you can tell me would be helpful.”

“Yeah,” Sehun said, looking behind him as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, “In this society, you lie or your die. That’s all.”

“That’s…it?” Jongin said, stopping in his tracks, “Your directions and plans are terrible.”

“It’s true,” Sehun shrugged, continuing to walk away without waiting for Jongin, “Jongdae may have tried to teach you little tricks, but honestly…You lie or you die. Surviving for people like us depends on lying, so you just have to do it if you don’t want a bullet in your head. And trust me. That’s always a powerful motivator.” 

“So. Lie or die,” Jongin said, running to catch up with Sehun. An android stared as they brushed past them but said nothing. 

“Lie or die,” Sehun nodded, “That’s all.”

Jongin turned his neck, wondering if anyone else had heard Sehun speak. That seemed unlikely, as no one had gasped and pointed at them and no android had grabbed their arms and hauled them off to detainment. 

“Lie or die,” Jongin mumbled to himself after they entered the airport. He stood on his tiptoes, peeking ahead at the line of android guards waiting to question the travelers. After they stood in line, Jongin averted his gaze, preferring to look down at his feet, not wanting to stare at the androids until he absolutely had to. 

“Lie or die,” Jongin said to himself again as the line moved up. He didn’t want to make a scene, so he took out his passport and boarding pass now. Ahead of him, Sehun started humming a tune Jongin recognized. Sehun seemed unconcerned, just like Jongdae had seemed, but maybe they stopped fearing after lying became second nature. Or maybe they had forever abandoned the truth all together.  

As the line continued to shorten, Jongin’s heart started thumping loudly even though this was not the first time he had tried fooling airport security. He took a shaky breath and watched as Sehun stepped up to the counter, passed his documents over, and raised his wrist. An android scanned Sehun’s face and Jongin hid the urge to watch between his hands.

“Name?” 

“Oh Sehun.” 

Green. 

“Reason for travel?” 

“I’m seeing my husband,” Sehun said. 

Green. 

“Have a safe flight. I hope you don’t crash,” the android said before they turned to Jongin. “Next.”

Jongin walked towards the counter, accidentally dropping his passport and boarding pass on the floor. Feeling his cheeks redden, he bent over to pick them up before dumping them unceremoniously on the counter. The android studied Jongin, their cyber eyes scanning him for a moment before continuing with the procedure. 

“Name?”

Jongin swallowed and raised his wrist. It was a question he couldn’t possibly fail, and yet his voice still trembled as he spoke.

“Kim Jongin.” 

Green.

“Reason for travel?”

“I’m visiting…a friend,” Jongin said, trying to steady his voice. 

The hesitation triggered the lie detector to flash red, and Jongin clasped his wrist as he heard gasps and murmurs in the line behind him. His cheeks continued to redden, and he could feel the holes burning in the side of his head as Sehun stared at him. 

“Strike one,” the android said, “Three strikes, and airport security will detain you. And believe me when I say…You do not want that. Try again, Kim Jongin. Reason for travel?” 

“Business,” Jongin stammered, “I have work business to do.” 

After his bracelet flashed red again, Jongin did his best to remain calm, but that was difficult given the crowd of spectators that had gathered to see the liar caught by an android. A meter away, Sehun watched him carefully, keeping his hands folded across his chest, but he did not even lift a finger to help him. 

“Second strike,” the android said, “One strike until you will be detained. Try again, Kim Jongin. Reason for travel?” 

“I’m seeing my brother,” Jongin blurted out, not knowing where those words came from.

At last, a green light. At last, a truth that still felt like a lie. 

“Have a safe flight. I hope you do not crash,” the android said, handing Jongin his passport back before mechanically signaling the next person in line to approach. 

Jongin waited until he took his passport with trembling hands and walked up to Sehun before finally letting out a sigh and slumping against the nearby column for support. It was never any easier no matter how many times he had snuck through airport security before. 

“Why the fuck did Jongdae want to work with you?” Sehun asked, shaking his head, “You’re a walking hazard. No wonder you got him taken away.” 

After shouldering his bag, Sehun briskly pushed past Jongin, heading for their terminal. He walked with his chin raised, looking back once in disapproval after Jongin hadn’t followed him.   Jongin clutched at his chest for another moment before running after Sehun, ignoring the lingering looks. After reaching the terminal, Jongin had tried to sit next to Sehun before he thought better and scooted a seat over. 

As a robotic voice announced that there were fifteen minutes left before boarding would begin, Sehun pulled out a ball of maroon yarn and silver knitting needles and began knitting, continuing his progress on what seemed to be three inches of a scarf.

“What?” Sehun said, finally noticing Jongin’s staring. He looked up, continuing to knit without looking while his needles clicked pleasantly together. 

“Nothing,” Jongin said. 

“ _What_ ,” Sehun repeated himself, pausing his knitting to frown.   

“I just…You don’t seem like the person who likes knitting,” Jongin said, eyeing the ends of the knitting needles that looked a little too pointy for his liking. 

Sehun shrugged. 

“It’s calming,” he said, “and I like knitting things for Jongdae.” 

Jongin remembered the black scarf Jongdae wore almost everywhere and the blanket he kept with him while he traveled.   

“How did you sneak those through security anyways?” Jongin said, gesturing at the needles. 

“The same way I snuck in a few guns,” Sehun said.

“A few?” Jongin weakly said. 

Jongin slid down his chair and tried to picture an easy life. A simple life with no stress or death looming above him at every moment. But nothing had been easy since he had met Sehun, since he had met Jongdae, since he had started working for A.S.S. 

And since his father was murdered. 

Jongin closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Sehun’s needles before he grew restless and cracked an eye open. Beside him, Sehun looked harmless, like a young man who had diligently learned knitting from his doting grandmother and wanted to repay the favor by knitting her a warm winter blanket. Taking a chance, Jongin scooted over. Sehun didn’t even acknowledge him, continuing to focus on his red yarn and silver needles. At least with Jongdae, Jongin was never bored because Jongdae never shut up.

Jongin stretched out a finger and poked Sehun’s side. 

“Don’t touch me,” Sehun flatly said.

Jongin wrinkled his nose. But Sehun had done the same thing to him. 

“Can you tell me about Jongdae?” Jongin asked, “If he’s not lying, then he really is my brother, and I want to know what he’s like.” 

“Half,” Sehun reminded him. He stopped knitting, putting down the needles to examine his progress before sighing and conceding. 

“Jongdae has the most beautiful voice,” Sehun said, setting his work down in his lap as he looked out into the terminal. Across the space, a few androids were questioning a traveler about the red on their wrist. A few meters away from them, an android stood at the counter, waiting for boarding to begin before they could assist the passengers.

“I know that,” Jongin said, “He took me to one of his concerts.”

“Oh?” Sehun said, turning to look at him for a moment, “Then you know. He’s the best performer I’ve ever seen, ever heard, ever played with, and he throws all his heart into whatever he does. Really, he’s got the biggest heart I’ve ever seen.” 

“That’s not possible,” Jongin stubbornly said, “He’s an assassin.” 

“You don’t know what it’s like to be loved by Jongdae,” Sehun shook his head, “If I wanted the moon, then he’d give me the moon. If I wanted to touch the stars, then he’d steal them away from the skies for me. And if I wanted to live forever, he’d fight death for us so we’d seize eternity together.” 

“Then why is the moon still in the sky?” Jongin asked. 

“Because I never wanted it,” Sehun shrugged, “Why would I when I already have him?” 

“Then you don’t want to touch the stars either?” Jongin asked. 

“I already have,” Sehun said, his lips starting to wobble. A smile was threatening to spread across his face, but Sehun pressed his lips tightly together and composed himself before continuing to speak. “Jongdae’s the brightest star I’ve ever known, the only person worth loving and being loved by.” 

Jongin paused.

“If he knew, then why didn’t he say anything sooner?” Jongin said, his voice growing softer, “Maybe I could’ve loved him. Maybe he could’ve loved me, too.”

In another life, in another universe, maybe they could have grown up loving each other. When they were kids, they would’ve made pillow forts in the living room kids and played with a flashlight to pretend they’d trapped a star under the blankets. When they were older, they would’ve attended concerts together, ballet one week for Jongin, rock the other week for Jongdae. And when they were how old they were now, maybe Jongdae would’ve picked up Jongin after his work finished before taking him out to dinner to catch up.

Maybe it could’ve been like this if the world was kinder, if everyone had bigger hearts. But that was a dream that Sehun woke Jongin up from with a few choice words.

“But you don’t,” Sehun bluntly said, “But he doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” Jongin said, blinking impossibilities out of his eyes, “I don’t like him. You’re right.” 

His bracelet remained green. Good. 

“Your loss,” Sehun said, returning to his knitting, “He’s the best person to love.” 

“Hey,” Jongin said, sitting up straighter as he realized how to save his own life, “Since Jongdae worked so hard to keep me alive, and since I’m his brother—”

“Half,” Sehun corrected him again.

“His brother,” Jongin continued anyways, “That means you can’t kill me. I bet all your death threats were empty, too.” 

Sehun stayed silent, taking the time to choose his words carefully. 

“Jongdae would be upset if I killed you, which is the only reason why I haven’t done so yet and why I have no plans of actually doing that soon if you continue to cooperate and if we save Jongdae. You’re more useful to me alive than dead,” Sehun finally said.

“That’s…the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Jongin said, feeling a smile bloom across his face as he listened to Sehun speak.   

“This doesn’t mean we’re friends,” Sehun said, shooting him a look, “Not even in the slightest. You’re the reason why Jongdae’s in this mess after all.” 

A mechanical voice announced over the speakers that it was time to start boarding before Jongin could say more. Sehun carefully folded the progress he had made on his scarf and stowed away his needles and yarn into his bag before walking towards the line. Jongin watched him go, reluctantly admitting that Sehun could have absolutely been a model in another life, if things had turned out differently, if fate was kinder to all of them. 

Inside the plane, Jongin made himself comfortable in the window seat, placing his pillow on the wall before leaning against it. Sehun, like Jongdae, preferred taking the aisle seats that offered the quickest escape route in case of an emergency.  Jongin wondered if it must have been tiring…living like this, constantly looking over their shoulders. Maybe that was why they wanted to retire. 

Once they were seated, a flight attendant offered Sehun some champagne that he refused with a polite wave of his hand. Jongin accepted his own drink eagerly, gulping it down like this was college again and he’d entered another drinking contest he’d win again. He was five sips away from finishing the glass before Sehun flicked his arm. 

“Don’t drink all of it,” he said, casting a disapproving look as he studied how much alcohol Jongin had drunk in seconds. “You don’t know what would happen to when you’re drunk or under the influence. You’re shit at fighting now, shit at doing literally everything now, but I still can’t imagine how fucking bad you with alcohol with be.” 

“What if it makes me a better fighter? A braver person?” Jongin said. But then he remembered what Jongdae had told him the first night they had met and set the glass back down on the little tray in front of him, watching the bubbles bounce in his drink instead.

“It makes you easier to kill,” Sehun said, “Don’t you know how many people who’d never seen their deaths coming because they were all drunk?” 

“No,” Jongin said, snapping his head around to make sure no one had heard Sehun speak, “Not at all. Keep that to yourself.”

Sehun had the audacity to slightly smile at Jongin’s discomfort before he pushed Jongin out of his personal space. 

“You’re too close,” Sehun said, lowering the chair divider to create a barrier between them. 

Jongin stuck his tongue out at Sehun and slumped back in his seat. 

“Can I sleep now?” Jongin asked, folding his arms over his chest. 

Sehun nodded. 

“I’ll take first watch,” he said, bending down to pull out his yarn again.

“We’re in a plane,” Jongin said, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

“I’ll take first watch,” Sehun repeated, resuming his knitting.   

Jongin paused before closing his eyes and falling asleep to the sound of gentle clicking.

 

 

ϟ ϟ ϟ

 

 

A hard shove violently woke Jongin hours later, and he felt his heart tumble out of his chest as his eyes flew open. He gripped the seat of his chair and wildly looked around, assuming the worst.

“What’s wrong?” Jongin asked, noticing a flight attendant near them. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Sehun as he frantically whispered. “Is she here to kill us?”

“No,” Sehun said. In the time Jongin had slept, Sehun had managed to finish half of his scarf, “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Then why did you wake me up like that?” Jongin demanded, relaxing slightly.   

“Because I wanted to,” Sehun said, “and because you were leaning on my shoulder.”

Jongin blinked, feeling his heart slowly calm down, and shoved him back, causing Sehun to let out a loud laugh. 

“We’re landing anyways,” Sehun shrugged, dodging another light punch from Jongin. He looked behind him before leaning closer. “The plan for the landing…just wait for it.” 

“Oh my god you poisoned the passengers,” Jongin groaned, slapping his face with a hand, “How has no one has ever realized how you escape from planes?” 

“They blame it on food poisoning,” Sehun said, tapping his bracelet to check the time, “I guess Jongdae’s showed you that trick.” 

“Do you still need to do all of that?” Jongin said, not sure if his heart could take another airport shootout. No. Just kidding. He was absolutely one thousand percent sure his heart couldn’t take another airport shootout. 

“If you don’t want to be detained or shot since you’re with me, then yes,” Sehun said. 

“But Jongdae destroyed your file and wiped the digital copies. They won’t recognize you if they try running your face through facial recognition,” Jongin said. 

Sehun set his knitting down onto his lap and turned towards Jongin, leaning in as he asked in a soft voice, _he did?_

“Of course he did,” Jongin said, “Who do you think he is?” 

“The motherfucking love of my life,” Sehun answered, resting his cheek in his hand, “Did he manage to destroy his files, too?” 

“No,” Jongin said. Sehun’s face fell for a second before he quickly recomposed himself. “But we’ll destroy his, too, alright? So thanks to him, there’s no need for any shooting. You don’t have to run anymore.” 

Sehun remained silent. 

“Trust me,” Jongin said. 

“I don’t,” Sehun said.

“Then trust Jongdae,” Jongin said.

“Okay,” Sehun said. And that was that.

Ten minutes later, Jongin was absolutely beaming as they, like any other normal civilian, exited the plane with the other passengers. Of course, they did have to wait for a few paramedics to wheel a group of sick passengers away, but they didn’t have anything to do with that whatsoever. Sehun was tense as they walked into the terminal, keeping his shoulders raised and his hands in his pocket. Jongin was unconcerned, having the time of his life pretending that everything was fine, that Sehun wasn’t two seconds away from pulling out a gun after an android had stepped too close. 

“See? Nothing to be afraid of,” Jongin said after they had made it to baggage claim 

“Yeah. Just never seeing Jongdae ever again,” Sehun said, looking behind him once more, “Not that it’s going to happen. Because it won’t.” 

“We’ll get him back,” Jongin said, placing an arm on Sehun’s shoulder to comfort him. Sehun waited three whole seconds before he shook it off. Progress.   

Jongin didn’t ask where they were going as Sehun hailed a taxi and after they stepped off onto an unknown street deep inside the city. He only followed Sehun without questioning, frowning as the streets became grimier and the streetlights dimmer. Even though Sehun easily towered over most of the crowd and stood out with his broad shoulders, the way he effortlessly melted into the crowd made Jongin struggle to keep up with him sometimes if he fell behind. 

After fifteen minutes, Jongin finally realized where Sehun was taking him, recognizing the worn paths, the crumbling, cracked alleyways, and sped up until he was by Sehun’s side.  

“Hey,” Jongin said, trying not to let his accelerating heart manifest in his voice, “We’re going back to Joohyun’s?”

“Trust me, I would rent a five-star hotel and put us in a penthouse if I could because it’s what I deserve, but given the mess you’ve caused, this is the safest place to hide in the city,” Sehun said, ducking into a dark alley. 

“I can’t…I can’t go back there,” Jongin said, stopping in his tracks and watching as Sehun disappeared into the shadows.

“Why not?” Sehun said without stopping.

“If she told you Jongdae’s been taken, then she knows about me, and if she knows about me, then…she knows…who killed Seulgi,” Jongin said, his voice growing weaker and weaker with every word he spoke, with every truth he admitted.

Sehun furrowed his eyebrows.

“That was you? Of course it was…Why did Jongdae have to be related to a killer?” Sehun muttered, flicking his gaze up and down him slowly. He curled his upper lip and shook his head. “Don’t you know how hard it was for Joohyun after Seulgi died? How hard it is even now?”     

“Hey, he’s one, too,” Jongin raised his voice, “and I didn’t… _I_ didn’t kill her, but she almost killed me.”

He lifted his shirt up to show Sehun the long scar that trailed up his abdomen. Sehun stared at it before meeting Jongin’s gaze.

“Then who did?” he asked. 

“My partner,” Jongin said before lowering his voice, “ex. Ex. Partner.” 

“Partner in what sense?” Sehun asked.

“Every way,” Jongin said, looking away. 

“Come on,” Sehun said, starting to walk again after a slight pause, “We’re going. If you can look me in the eyes after what you’ve done, then you can look her in the eyes when we’re there and say sorry. You’re not a coward.”

“Yes I am,” Jongin said, glumly trailing after Sehun. He kicked at the cracked pavement, anticipating the worst, dreading the tears and the rage from Joohyun after she saw him again.

Yes he was. Loud noises scared him. Guns scared him. Androids scared him. His job scared him.

Humans scared him. 

“No, you’re not. You may be weak…maybe the weakest person I’ve ever met. But you’re not a coward. You and Jongdae must share that same bravery,” Sehun said. Jongin stopped in his tracks, thinking about what Sehun had said before he raced after him, feeling his spirits rise. This time, he matched Sehun’s pace and walked beside him, having to lift his legs slightly faster than usual to do so. 

“I tend to walk fast,” Sehun using any vague comment to unsubtly transition into a conversation about Jongdae, “and Jongdae likes taking his time, so he always holds my hand to prevent us from losing each other.” 

“That’s just an excuse to hold your hand,” Jongin said, “I’m sure you’d slow down for him and he’d run for you any time.” 

“Yeah,” Sehun said. Jongin didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling. “I guess.” 

“Try to keep up,” Sehun ordered, increasing his speed after peeking behind him, “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can plan."   

“Want to hold hands then?” Jongin joked, reaching for Sehun’s hand. 

“Don’t touch me,” Sehun said. But he let out a small laugh. 

Jongin felt his heart sink to the bottom of his chest as they walked up a familiar driveway and gritted his teeth. He could do this. He could face Joohyun. Sehun reached out to knock on the door, but before he could even touch the wood, the door swung open, revealing Joohyun glaring as she pointed a gun at Jongin.

“Hello Sehun,” Joohyun said, though she stared directly at Jongin, “What the fuck is he doing here?” 

Jongin froze. 

“We’re saving Jongdae,” Sehun said, placing an arm around Jongin’s shoulder to lead him into the safehouse. Jongin looked back, stumbling as he watched Joohyun follow, keeping the gun pointed straight at his head. 

“You do know he’s the reason why Jongdae’s gone, right?” Joohyun said. Her finger trembled as it hovered above the trigger, and Jongin almost went into cardiac arrest wondering what would happen if she accidentally lost control. 

“He’s also the reason why Seulgi’s gone, too,” she said, stepping forwards to aggressively press the gun against Jongin’s forehead.

Jongin’s hands shot up in the air. Sehun didn’t think he was a coward? _Please_. 

“I didn’t…I didn’t kill her,” Jongin stammered, trying to explain himself as fast as he could before Joohyun’s finger slipped, “But did you know she almost killed me?” 

“Then she should’ve finished the job,” Joohyun snarled. Her bottom lip trembled, and tears stung her eyes. “She should’ve finished the job and come back to me.” 

“Look, I’m sorry,” Jongin blurted out, “I’m so sorry my partner killed Seulgi, but—” 

“Don’t even _say_ her name,” Joohyun raised her voice. 

Sehun sighed and set his bag onto one of the tables before putting his hand on top of Joohyun’s gun. 

“Trust me,” Sehun said, “I wanted to kill him, too, but things are different.” 

“How?” Joohyun said, tearing her gaze away from Jongin to demand an answer from Sehun, “ _How?_ ” 

“He’s Jongdae’s brother,” Sehun said. 

It still didn’t sound right when Sehun said that out loud. Joohyun gasped, her arm slackening enough for Sehun to push the gun away from Jongin’s head. 

“So he was betrayed by his own brother,” Joohyun said, shaking his head, “You’re a monster.”

“I didn’t want him to be detained like that,” Jongin tried to argue, not that it would change her mind or Sehun’s, “Not in the end.” 

“The end isn’t what matters. If we only look at the end, we’ll forget you plotted with your co-workers, with your… partner to take him away when he came to you for help.” Joohyun said, studying Jongin’s face as if she looked hard enough, she’d find Jongdae somewhere, maybe in the curve of Jongin’s jaw or in the slope of his nose. Neither she nor Jongin knew in this moment that they’d have to look into their hearts to find the resemblance. 

“I know. And I’m sorry,” Jongin repeated, keeping his wrist in the air to show her he meant what he said. If she couldn’t believe his words, then she’d believe the green lights. “I’m sorry for Seulgi, and I’m sorry for Jongdae. But I’m helping you save him now. I really mean it.” 

Saving Jongdae was a generous way of masking Jongin’s intentions. Just because he didn’t want Jongdae killed by androids did not mean that he didn’t want Jongdae to ever see the inside of a prison cell. 

“I don’t trust him,” Joohyun said to Sehun. 

“I don’t either,” Sehun said, “But he’ll have to fix this. He has the credentials to get in and out of A.S.S. without much notice.” 

Joohyun frowned.

“That won’t do,” Joohyun shook his head, “When I found out who he was, I did a deep search on the database. The Director’s placed him on an alert list. If the androids recognize his face, they’ll detain him.” 

Jongin’s jaw dropped. Him? On the watch list? But he hadn’t done anything wrong. 

Except help an assassin.

Twice. 

And evade capture. 

…And throw a bomb into the director’s lunch room. 

The look of great disappointment Sehun gave him somehow made Jongin feel worse about himself than he had felt when he’d accidentally broken his mother’s favorite vase and hid the pieces, thinking she’d never know.  

“You really make things so much easier, don’t you,” Sehun sighed. 

“Can’t you control facial recognition?” Jongin asked Joohyun, “Like you did when Jongdae and I worked together?” 

“Yes, but if you run into a human agent you know, then there’s nothing I can do,” Joohyun threw her hands up, “You still want to use him, Sehun?” 

“He knows the place better than I do,” Sehun said, “He’ll do.”

“I can always navigate through the cams,” Joohyun said, “and haven’t you been there before?” 

He had? Jongin hadn’t remembered reading that in Sehun’s file. 

“Only when I was younger,” Sehun shifting uncomfortably, “I don’t remember much. But it’ll be easier with his cooperation and help.” 

“No it won’t,” Joohyun said. Jongin agreed with her. 

“It’s what Jongdae would do,” Sehun shrugged. 

“And look where that got him,” Joohyun said.

Her expression softened after she saw the way Sehun turned away, leaning away from the lights so the shadows could hide the way his face twisted. 

“Okay,” Joohyun said at last, placing a hand on Sehun’s shoulder, “Okay…What’s the plan?” 

“Get in. Get Jongdae. Get out,” Sehun said, raising a finger for every step. 

“All right,” Joohyun nodded, pushing her glasses up her nose, “I’ll begin preparations now. We still need to destroy Jongdae's file, so I'll start programming a stronger virus, too.”

“What?” Jongin asked, helplessly looking at both of them in the hopes that _someone_ would explain, “Sehun, you…did that again. You’re being vague again. How many guards are there? Which hallways should we avoid? What do we do if there’s a squad of androids and we only have two bullets left?” 

“I’m not going to baby you like Jongdae did,” Sehun scoffed, tilting his body so the shadows danced on his face, “The plan is get in. Get Jongdae. Get out. Do whatever it takes. There are no little details here and there because I can’t tell you exactly when you’ll need to fight, when you’ll be attacked. See a guard? Take him out. See an android? Take them out. That’s it. It’s not that hard.” 

For people like Sehun, of course it wasn’t hard. For people like Jongin, well. Jongin just hoped that if he dug deep inside himself, he’d find within him Jongdae’s same ability to fight without fear. He didn’t know how far he’d have to dig, though. Maybe it was skin deep. Maybe he’d have to claw harder at himself, ripping through muscle, breaking through bone until it was there, deep inside his chest. 

“Have you even shot anyone before?” Joohyun huffed, “Jongdae did all the work when you were with him, but I bet you have. You look like a murderer.”   

“I _haven’t_ ,” Jongin shot back, “and you’re not exactly innocent either. Seulgi almost killed me. Did you know that? I took a bullet she was aiming at my…” 

He trailed off. The ex was too permanent. 

Joohyun paused to consider his words before the two of them launched into a rapid fire argument. 

“She wouldn’t have done so if you weren’t chasing her.” 

“Well we wouldn’t have had to chase her if she wasn’t an assassin.” 

“She wouldn’t _need_ to be an assassin if the society wasn’t like this.”

“No one would _need_ it if they followed the system and stuck to petitions.”

Sehun stepped between them and waved his hands. 

“If we stick to the petitions, people still die. Okay? All of us are guilty,” Sehun interrupted before either could utter another word, “So let’s stop fighting…even though I would give you three minutes of a head start to kill Jongin before I’d stop you.”

“Three minutes? I’d only need three seconds,” Joohyun said, about to raise her gun again before Jongin shoved her hand down. 

“I thought you didn’t want to take vengeance,” Jongin protested, “That’s what you said earlier.” 

“That was before the person responsible for her death walked straight into here,” Joohyun said, ripping Jongin’s hand off of her before raising the gun once again.  

“We’re getting nowhere,” Sehun said, pressing fingers to his temple, “Hello? I would like to save my husband and start my retirement, so can we please get the fuck on with this?” 

Joohyun angrily glared at Jongin for a moment longer before slamming the gun on the table. Seething in silence, she aggressively jabbed the screen and projected holograms before them. After examining them, Jongin realized that they were the same plans as the ones she had shown him and Jongdae. 

“This seems familiar,” Sehun said, his fingers hovering in front of the hologram that depicted the floor underneath the android department.

“Why were you here before?” Jongin asked. 

“I was here,” Sehun said without acknowledging Jongin’s question, circling a section of the blueprint with a finger, “I don’t know where they’d hold Jongdae though.” 

“Detainment is here,” Jongin said, pointing at the lower floors. What had Sehun been doing in detainment? “You can only access it through the android department because its elevator is the only one that can take you down there." 

“Like I said before,” Joohyun said through gritted teeth after Jongin was about to add something else. Perhaps even the sound of his voice was enough to set her off. “The android department locks on the hour, sometimes more depending on maintenance and server backups, so you’ll have to time your entry and exit perfectly. Unless you want to be stuck there like last time, get in and get out. You have an hour to do it.” 

“You were stuck before?” Sehun asked. 

“Yes, it was my fault,” Jongin admitted, already anticipating the question Sehun would have asked.   

“I guess we’re lucky Jongdae’s only been captured. Not killed. You’re a walking disaster, and anyone who’s around you suffers. Clearly,” Joohyun said, turning her nose up. 

Jongin paused to consider her words. Maybe it was true. 

“Okay,” he softly said, finally conceding, “Okay.” 

Joohyun’s expression shifted a second, and she opened her mouth to say something more before she changed her mind and continued tapping on the screen. 

“I’ve booked you a gig,” Joohyun said, flicking Sehun’s arm to grab his attention. 

“We really have time for that?” Jongin said, helplessly gesturing at the door, “Shouldn’t we go to Jongdae now? Not waste time on a concert?” 

“We’re not prepared now,” Sehun answered without looking at him, “And if we went now, I’d lose control. I need time to collect myself, to calm down, so when we do go tomorrow, I won’t make a single mistake. We can’t afford to, not when this concerns Jongdae.” 

“Okay,” Jongin conceded, “At least I know I won’t die tonight then, if it’s only a concert we’re wasting time on.” 

“Where’s the venue?” Sehun ignored Jongin’s comment, propping up his elbows on the table and placing his cheeks in his hands as he waited for Joohyun to answer. 

“Same place. The only good venue here,” Joohyun said, projecting the same stadium Jongdae had performed at. 

“All right. I’ll get ready to go,” Sehun nodded, poking the hologram with a finger and causing the image to glitch. He stood up and stretched before heading towards the stairs. 

And leave Jongin alone with Joohyun? In this economy? 

“Wait. Can I come with you?” Jongin asked, tugging on Sehun’s sleeve to stop him. A concert with other assassins and civilians who employed them seemed far safer than spending any more time with Joohyun. And besides. There was nothing a good concert couldn’t fix, and when had music not been able to sooth Jongin’s soul?” 

“Can I please come with you?” Jongin asked again, tugging on Sehun’s shirt.

Sehun paused but didn’t tell Jongin to take his hands away. 

“If you ruin my performance, you’ll regret it,” Sehun said with a brisk nod.  

 

 

ϟ ϟ ϟ

 

 

“I don’t get it,” Jongin said as they arrived at the venue an hour later, “You can waltz in, tell them you’re performing, and a drummer will give up his spot for you?” 

He had remembered that Jongdae and Sehun didn’t even have a fixed band, didn’t even play with the same musicians for every performance. Surely other musicians wouldn’t appreciate them stealing their places at the last minute, right? But the singer that Jongdae replaced had seemed thrilled, even honored that Jongdae would sing with his band. 

“I’ve got superiority and I’m also the best drummer,” Sehun said, striding across the pathway, causing Jongin to walk faster to keep up. But that was nearly impossible since Sehun had forced Jongin to wear something more appropriate for the occasion, which included a pair of skinny jeans so tight that Jongin was sure he’d lose circulation in a few hours and a ripped tank, similar to the one Jongdae loved wearing. 

Sehun himself wore a black button-up, leaving enough buttons undone to reveal a firm chest and tattoos. He threw a studded leather jacket on top and wore similar pants, though he didn’t seem as restrained as Jongin did. While his outfit was simple, relying on monochrome colors, Sehun styled himself with a black choker, a few extra earrings, and gelled his hair to the side.   

“But you know all the songs that they play just like Jongdae?” Jongin said, “So you can jump in and play it on the spot?” 

“Unlike you, I’m actually good at my job. Both of them,” Sehun said, sauntering up towards the same VIP entrance Jongdae had taken Jongin through. “And you really think I wouldn’t have all the songs Jongdae wrote memorized by heart? Usually we practice together often, but obviously that couldn’t happen for various reasons. 

Jongin shut up. 

After they entered the VIP entrance, Sehun stood in front of the guard, aloofly tilting his chin up as he waited for guard to let them pass.  

The guard looked at Sehun, tilted his chin up in greeting, and grinned. 

“You know what to do,” the guard said, “It’s so good to have you back again. You should’ve seen the last train wreck of a concert, man. The drummer was a fucking _mess_.” 

“This is my manager,” Sehun said, jabbing a thumb at Jongin, “I trust him with my whole heart.” 

As his bracelet instantly turned red, the guard laughed and gestured at Jongin to do the same. 

“I’m his manager and I think he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met,” Jongin reluctantly said.

“Hey, I recognize you from before,” the guard said after nodding at Jongin’s red bracelet, “You were with Jongdae. Is he coming tonight?”   

“No,” Sehun said, shoving his hands in his pocket. He kept his chin raised as he brushed past the guard, but his shoulders were hunched over.

“Sorry,” Jongin said as he tried to keep up. Sehun navigated through the stadium effortlessly, and as they passed by the bar and through the hallways with faded band stickers and posters, he nodded in greeting to other musicians they passed.

“Should we even be here?” Jongin asked after watching a musician offer Sehun an enthusiastic fist bump, “Jongdae’s detained, and we don’t even know if…” 

He trailed off, not wanting to say the rest out loud to Sehun.

“Stop saying that,” Sehun said, “What’s done is done. Just focus on getting him back.”

“We can’t do that if we’re here,” Jongin said, shivering as they walked under a red tinted light.

“He’d want us to have fun. A little play before work, a little life before death. So get your heart on, Jongin. You’ve got to live too much and love too much to change surviving into living,” Sehun said before pushing open the door to a dressing room.

A group of musicians greeted him with a cheer, rushing forwards to hug him. Sehun smiled, greeting them with fist bumps. Jongin supposed that this was band buddy privilege, as he’d never seen Sehun smile like this with anyone before.    

“Yo, you brought Jongdae’s manager again?” one of his musician friends said, drawing quotes in the air when he said the word _manager_.

“He’s my manager today,” Sehun said, mimicking the quotes with his fingers. He said it with such an air of nonchalance that Jongin wasn’t surprised to see that his bracelet was still green.

“When are you and Jongdae playing together again?” another musician asked, “You guys light the stage up and burn it down when you’re together.” 

If Jongdae had been that charismatic and electrifying on stage without Sehun, Jongin couldn’t even imagine how both of them would perform together. 

“Soon,” Sehun said, nodded firmly, “He’s coming back soon.” 

Sehun’s jaw clenched, and as if sensing they had breached upon a sensitive topic, another musician cleared her throat and spoke.

“So what’s it going to be tonight? Drums? Bass? Guitar?” she asked.

“I’m replacing you,” Sehun then said, pointing at someone with a lip ring, “It’s drums tonight.”

“Stage is all yours, my dude,” the drummer said, clapping Sehun’s shoulder, “Let me know if you need anything. 

“Thanks,” Sehun nodded, “Where’s your setlist?”

After quickly discussing the setlist, they decided to include the usual classic crowd favorites like ‘Shut The Fuck Up And Tell Me My Husband Isn’t The Best One More Time I Double Dare You.’ But Jongin wasn’t familiar with some of the songs like ‘Your Ass Looks Great In Skinny Jeans, Babe,’ and ‘Death Died Because I Loved You Too Fucking Much.’ It seemed that what they lacked in a nonexistent band or stage names was made up in excessive song titles. 

Jongin soon grew bored of hearing them discuss whether or not they should use pyrotechnics or lasers for the show tonight and wandered to the cabinet, opening the drawers to find various masks, guitar picks, and other objects he didn't recognize. One object, however, he remembered Jongdae had taken out the last time he was here. After picking it up, he raised it in the air, turning it around slowly, careful not to disconnect any of the numerous red wires connected to the silver box. Jongdae had said this was a prototype for a metronome, one that matched fluctuating tempos during practice. But if Jongin took one look at the metronome with none of that context, he still would've thought it was a bomb. Jongin carefully placed the metronome back into the drawers before taking a seat on the couch. It was better that he didn't touch anything that looked mildly dangerous. 

Minutes later, Sehun retreated to the corner of the room, taking a seat on the couch adjacent from Jongin. He placed the setlist on top of the table and pulled out his knitting needles again. Instead of unraveling a ball of yarn, Sehun pressed the top of his knitting needles, the ends morphing to form drum sticks. After examining them for a moment, Sehun began tapping on the table, staring blankly into nowhere. 

“How often do you rotate instruments since you can play so many?” Jongin asked, “What if a band doesn’t want to give up their drummer?” 

“I can play bass and guitar, but drum’s my favorite,” Sehun said, tapping softer to maintain his conversation with Jongin, “And it doesn’t matter. A band is only as good as their drummer, and I’m the best anywhere, so I’ve never had people tell me no.” 

“Then what if Jongdae gets stuck with a bad drummer when he performs without you?” Jongin asked. 

“He’s Jongdae,” Sehun snorted, “He could make any band no matter how shitty sound good. The stage is his, and the audience never sees anyone else but him. Mood.”

He paused before asking a question, finally giving up and stopped drumming. 

“Do you like punk rock, too?” he asked, twirling a drumstick with a hand. 

“I like classical music,” Jongin said. Across the room, the musicians had begun a final tune up of their instruments, hooking their guitars and basses to the amps while they softly plucked each string one by one.

“Oh, really?” Sehun said, “What’s your favorite song?”

He smiled wickedly, knowing that was such a cruel question to ask anyone.

Jongin groaned before he leaned back into the chair and thought. He could say any Chopin piece, but who didn’t like Chopin? Tchaikovsky was also a favorite, but he’d have to admit some of his songs triggered memories of him performing in the _Nutcracker_ year after year after year when he was a kid. Then he remembered watching a concert with Yixing years ago, on one of their earlier dates. 

“Rachmaninoff’s second piano concerto,” Jongin nodded, “first movement. I think it’s the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard.”

“Wow you answered that fast,” Sehun blinked, “I thought that question would’ve shut you up for an hour while you thought of your answer.”  

“I know it’s different than what you and Jongdae play, but I do love Rach Two,” Jongin shrugged, using the nickname for the concerto he and Yixing had given it. 

“Jongin,” Sehun said, tapping out a rhythm on his lap, “That shit _bangs_. What are you talking about? That one section when all the themes return at the same time? What the _fuck_. Rach Two is rock, too.”

Jongin grinned, nodding appreciatively at Sehun’s words. If things were different, maybe they could’ve gone to college together. Went to concerts together. Lived without the threat of death looming over their heads together. 

“Do you play any instruments?” Sehun asked. He raised a hand in the air to acknowledge the staff member announcing five minutes until it was time. 

Jongin wondered why Sehun was being so civil. 

“No,” Jongin said, “But I used to dance in college…that was a long time ago, though.” 

“How long?” Sehun asked before amending his question, “…How old are you?”

“Twenty-six,” Jongin said.

“Oh. We’re the same age,” Sehun said, gathering his drumsticks in one hand.  

Jongin assumed Sehun was young, but he didn’t think that he was _that_ young. At twenty-six, Sehun should have been having fun with friends. Going to parties. Wasting lazy Sundays away. And yet, here he was. Twenty-six and running from the government. Twenty-six and murdering for money. Twenty-six and staying in the shadows, looking over his shoulder forever. 

“Do you ever think of what it would’ve been like if you had a normal life?” Jongin asked, wondering if he should’ve asked this or not.  

“No,” Sehun said after a pause. A short hesitation. He leaned into the couch, placed his hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling. “I can’t imagine it because I’ve never had that.”

“What do you mean?” Jongin asked, “Surely you grew up like everyone else, right?”

Obviously something must’ve happened for Sehun to be the person he was today. For Jongdae, it was killing their father. What was it for Sehun?

“I’ve always been on my own,” Sehun said, restlessly fiddling with his wedding ring, refusing to look at Jongin. “I lost my parents at a young age. Both had petitions filed against them, but of course I didn’t understand what that meant until androids dragged them away. No one else could take care of me after they passed, and I ran away from the first and only foster home they tried to put me in. No one’s as lucky as you to have a nice childhood, Jongin.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongin said. There was nothing he could say that would heal the past, right the wrongs, but he needed to apologize. The very petitions he approved or denied were the same ones that had set Sehun onto this path, that made him a murderer and taught him to lie.  

Sehun shrugged. 

“It’s fine. I found Jongdae, so nothing else matters,” Sehun said, offering Jongin a quick smile.  

“Hey, Sehun, let’s go,” a band member shouted across the room, beckoning for Sehun to follow. They grabbed their instruments and exited, heading to the stage first. Sehun stood up and rummaged around the drawers in the corner of the room. 

“Can you drum in that?” Jongin said, pointing at Sehun’s leather jacket, “It looks heavy.”

“Please,” Sehun bluntly said, “Like a jacket would stop me from doing this.”

He grabbed a black mask similar to the one Jongdae had worn and put it over his face, concealing everything but his hair and his lips. Like Jongdae’s mask, red glowing lights replaced his eyes.   

Jongin trailed after him, though fell back and hid behind the curtain as Sehun ran out onto the stage, raising a hand to acknowledge the screaming crowd. After taking a seat behind the drums, glowing lights positioned on the ground switched on. They illuminated the drums and his body, though kept his face in the shadows. After the lead singer introduced the band and thanked the audience for coming, Sehun lifted his sticks in the air, counted the band off, and threw his heart into the rhythm, drumming up a wild beat that reverberated in Jongin’s heart. 

Jongdae once said that Sehun was his heartbeat, his steadiness keeping him in time and in line. As Jongin watched Sehun perform, he believed everything Jongdae had said. Some musicians tended rush the music, to push the tempo when they performed, too overwhelmed by nerves or emotion to play consistently. But it was clockwork for Sehun, almost like he was playing with a metronome ticking in his heart. He steadily kept the beat but slowed down or sped up naturally when the music demanded it. 

If Jongin were honest, he’d easily admit to anyone that the singer of this band was nowhere near as good as Jongdae. Jongdae had the crowd in tears the second he walked out on stage and killed their voices after causing them to scream and sing along. So what really kept this band and performance alive was Sehun’s drumming. There could be no life without heart, no music without rhythm, and it was Sehun’s own heart that grounded each and every song they performed. 

The singer of the band must have been a fan of Jongdae’s, as he directed the crowd just like Jongdae did. 

“Let me hear a _lie_ ,” he said, stretching out the last word as the crowd screamed, “Let me see your hands up in the air! Show me those red lights!”

Jongin watched as the sea of green lights in the crowd flickered to red right in front of his eyes. Most people preferred keeping their lie count as small as possible, as too many lies spoken a year was enough cause for an interrogation or detainment. So if these people attended these concerts often, they were risking their own selves for music. 

Jongin opened his mouth, joining the crowd before he changed his mind. 

“I think Jongdae and Sehun are the greatest people of all time,” he said, clutching the fabric of the curtain as he listened to the crowd sing along with the singer. Here, in the shadows, there was no one but himself to see the red on his wrist, to hear the buzz informing him of what he had done.

And after he could no longer resist the music, he hid behind the curtain, closed his eyes, and danced as if he was seven and prancing around his room for hours because he wasn’t allowed outside again. Sixteen and spending hours perfecting his pirouette until his body was sore again. Twenty-one and laughing as he practiced a duet with Yixing for an annual dance recital at college again. 

Halfway through the concert, Jongin realized what he was doing and dropped his arms to his sides, hardening his heart once again. He watched the rest of the concert with his arms firmly folded across his chest. It was a struggle to stay completely motionless, and he allowed only his head to bop along to the rhythm. 

During concerts, two hours easily passed in two seconds, and after the band finished the last song of their encore, Jongin did not raise his voice to scream, but politely clapped, like he would after listening to the last note of a concerto. 

He nodded at every band member that breathlessly ran backstage, but dared to clap Sehun on the shoulder after he strutted towards him.

“That was amazing,” Jongin admitted, meaning every word he’d said. There really wasn’t anything like live music… _Good_ live music. 

“Thanks,” Sehun nodded, twirling a drumstick in one hand, “I’m surprised you stayed for the whole thing.”

Despite all the physical exertion, Sehun still looked flawless, his hair not even the slightest bit disheveled, and his eyeliner not even smudged. Which was unfair since Jongin, despite all his A.S.S. training, still broke out into a sweat after going up a single flight of stairs. 

Sehun waited for Jongin to catch up as they walked down the tunnel before he nudged his shoulder with his elbow. 

“Want a drink?” he asked. 

“ _Please_ ,” Jongin said.

Five minutes later, Jongin stared at a glass of ice water in front of him and retrospectively should’ve known. After he tried to order half a bottle of whatever the bartender could give him, Sehun shut him down and ordered two waters before warning him that the moment he got even _slightly_ tipsy was the moment he’d die. At least when Sehun and Jongdae adopted a kid, they had their No Alcohol Or Else talk all set. 

“You’re no fun,” Jongin said, glowering at the glass of water put in front of him. 

“I’d rather be boring than dead,” Sehun said, taking a sip of his water. The ice slowly drifted around his drink, clinking against the glass.

Sehun set down his cup and pressed the ends of his drum sticks again, turning them back into metallic knitting needles sharp enough to kill. The bartender waited for him to put away his needles before she leaned closer, looking around before she whispered. 

“We’ve got a gig for you,” the bartender told him quietly “You want in? High paying. High profile client.” 

“Sorry,” Sehun said, waving her aside, “I’m not interested right now.”

“Alright. Well, if you know anyone else interested like Jongdae, let me know,” the bartender nodded. 

“Jongdae’s not interested either,” Sehun said, pausing to take another sip of his water, “We’ve got a lot going on right now.”

“Oh…running from A.S.S.? Sorry to hear that, dude,” the bartender said, shaking her head. Sehun chugged the rest of his drink in response and slammed it onto the table. The bartender took Sehun’s glass, poured more water from a jug, and set the glass in front of him again. After hearing people on the opposite side of the bar banging their empty tankards and asking for beer, the bartender excused herself. 

Sehun was silent again, staring into nowhere and poking at the ice cubes again. Jongin held his own cup, feeling the ice burn his skin. From here, Sehun looked like some punk boy playing sober driver for his friends at the bar. Just a kid. A kid with a band. A kid with talent. A future even.

“Do you ever think you could have been a musician instead of a murderer?”  Jongin asked. 

Sehun traced a finger through the little droplets of water that had fallen on the counter.   

“Yeah,” he admitted, “In another life maybe. This one’s already done, so I can’t go back and change anything now.”

“But if you could, would you change anything?” Jongin asked, craning his neck as he eyed the tequila bottle the bartender held, debating whether or not to ask her for a shot. Not that Sehun would ever allow it though. 

“No,” Sehun said, “Not at all. Then I wouldn’t have met Jongdae.” 

“You love him that much,” Jongin said.

“Of course I do,” Sehun said, turning away from the glass to give him a look, “Have you seen that man? The only thing you can do is love him with all your heart, and I’m having the time of my life doing exactly just that”

“Can’t relate,” Jongin said, taking his hands off the glass, finding his palms pink and stiff, “He broke into my house the first time we met, so we didn’t start off well.”   

“Your loss,” Sehun shrugged.

“I’ll still help get him back for you,” Jongin said. And for his own peace of mind. “So you can hate me a little less.” 

“I don’t hate you,” Sehun said, looking up at Jongin again. This time, his expression had softened ever so slightly. “Yeah, I still want to swing at you on sight, but I don’t…hate you.” 

Sehun’s bracelet never flickered from green, but something about the way Sehun looked at him, the way he spoke made Jongin believe him.

 

 

ϟ ϟ ϟ

 

 

The next morning, Sehun dragged Jongin out of the safehouse at 5AM, dumping Jongin into the back of a taxi without waiting for him to fully wake up. 

“Here,” Sehun said, jamming comms in Jongin’s ear before lightly tapping Jongin’s cheeks, “Wake the fuck up. We have a job to do.”

Jongin groaned in response, too tired to register that he had tried leaning on Sehun’s shoulder to sleep.

“Don’t touch me,” Sehun firmly said, pushing Jongin off of him, “And don’t fall asleep. We’re out of the safehouse. Anything can happen when you’re unconscious.” 

Jongin was never good at waking up, especially at hours no one should ever be awake at, so he held his eyes open with his fingers.

“Wake the fuck up or I’ll send a strong electric pulse through your comms to kill you instantly. Don’t tempt me,” Joohyun’s voice crackled through the comms, startling Jongin awake. 

“Okay,” Jongin said, blinking his eyes open as his heart stuttered in response, “ _Okay_ …I’m awake. Don’t kill me.” 

“She can’t really do that,” Sehun reassured Jongin after Joohyun repeated her threat, “Don’t worry. If you died today, it’d be thanks to a stray bullet, or an android. Or a stray bullet from an android. Or, you were really unlucky, an elevator and—” 

“ _Okay,_ ” Jongin groaned, “I get it.”

“Don’t mess up or get in my way, and we’ll be fine,” Sehun said, accidentally sharing a look with the taxi driver through the rearview mirror. This driver was either too tired or too underpaid to care about whatever illegal heist they were discussing.

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t lie. You’ve seen what I was like at the airport, Sehun,” Jongin said, very certain he would most definitely mess up if prompted to tell the truth in front of an android, “It’s not possible. I’m not like you or Jongdae.” 

“I know,” Sehun said, “Just let me do the talking.” 

“You must be something special if Sehun’s willing to talk for you,” Joohyun interjected, “A special type of weak.” 

“Listen,” Sehun said, ignoring Joohyun’s comment, “I can’t meet Jongdae or save him if I’m dead, so don't even say a word, Jongin.” 

Sehun then grabbed Jongin’s bracelet, entered a few options, and held Jongin’s wrist out as he set the bracelet on camera mode and aimed it at himself. A self-reflecting hologram shot out from Jongin’s wrist, and Sehun ordered Jongin to hold still as he used the pixeled mirror to check his reflection and fix his hair.

This morning, Sehun dressed and styled himself almost exactly like he had done yesterday because strutting through the building looking like a punk rock hoe would clearly not grab the attention of any self-respecting agent. Jongin was sure if he had been awake, he would’ve caught Sehun perfecting his eyeliner at 4:30 AM. 

“Can you…be any more inconspicuous,” Jongin dryly said as Sehun tilted his jaw to look at himself from different angles. 

“When I say I’m dressed to kill, I mean it. Literally,” Sehun said, unbothered as he peered closely at his eyeliner to make sure there were no smudges, “And I’m going to see Jongdae, so I want to look extra hot.” 

Jongin looked into the rearview mirror and stared until the taxi driver felt his gaze and looked back, forced to share this experience with Jongin. 

Sehun asked the driver to stop a block away from the building, stepping out of the taxi as if he were stepping out of a limo about to head straight to a runway. Jongin stumbled out of the taxi like he was hurriedly tripping out of a metro knowing he was already five minutes late to work. 

“You can’t sneak in, or they’ll ask how you arrived,” Sehun said, striding towards the entrance of the building moments later. He held his head high, motioning for the doors to slide open for him with a flick of his wrist. 

“Stand up straight, Jongin,” Sehun said after glancing beside him, “Stop looking so guilty for no reason. If you’re not confident, they’ll stop you to ask why. So keep your shoulders relaxed and your chin up. No one will ask why you’re here if you look like you’re meant to be here…and if you look like you bought the building with your pocket money.” 

In theory. 

Androids were programmed to ask only if they processed a situation that their intelligence analyzed as wrong or illogical. Humans agents, however, would ask if they even felt like something was slightly wrong, slightly out of place. But for now, there were only androids they had to face in the lobby, androids they had to fool in order to pass through the checkpoint. 

“Shut up and follow my lead,” Sehun reminded Jongin before he stepped up to the front desk. 

“Hello,” the android greeted them, staring blankly at Sehun with eyes that eerily looked too human to be crafted from wires and metal, “State your purpose for visiting. It is clear you do not have a work badge or employee identification.” 

Jongin wanted to open his mouth and tell Sehun this was all his fault since he’d decided to throw on a whole look instead of playing it safe and snagging a maintenance worker’s uniform. But he knew what Sehun would’ve told him with a roll of his eyes. Style over safety, darling. 

“Yes, we do,” Sehun said, holding his bracelet over the counter before motioning for Jongin to do the same. 

“Thank you,” the android said after scanning their bracelets, “It appears the systems were mistaken. Which, they never are, but I suppose a diagnostic will have to be run later to make sure all systems are in order.” 

“You owe me,” Joohyun smoothly responded, “I could throw you to the androids any time I wanted, Jongin. Remember that.” 

Jongin would never stop remembering. 

“Are you here for work or business?” the android asked? 

“Business,” Sehun said as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder, “strictly business.” 

The android paused, waiting for Sehun’s bracelet to turn red. When it did not, the android nodded. 

But Sehun was not done yet, and he snapped a finger in front of the android's face before pointing towards the elevators, the motion causing the android to turn their head and look. Sehun continued gesturing at the elevator with one hand while his other hand crept behind the counter and quickly inserted a USB drive on the front desk's computer. Joohyun had labored all night to create a bug that would delete all data regarding Jongdae and that also would corrupt the entire system so that uploads and downloads would continue to be restricted for at least the next three days. So they had three days to find Jongdae's flash drive and destroy it before the Director could try reuploading the files onto the network once again. 

"Thank you so much for your help," Sehun said as he snuck the USB back into his pocket, "Let me know when the elevators are fixed." 

“Of course. It is a pleasure to help you. And what about you?” the android said, flicking their gaze towards Jongin who resisted the urge to hide behind Sehun’s broad shoulders. 

“He’s with me,” Sehun said, jabbing a finger towards Jongin, “He’s lost his voice, but he’s here for the same reason. Business.” 

Since Sehun appeared to be telling the truth, the android nodded and welcomed them inside.

“You really just waltz in anywhere you want like that, right?” Jongin whispered as they strode down the marble lobby, their footsteps echoing through the tall ceilings held up by chrome columns, “No wonder you and Jongdae have never been caught…until…now.” 

Sehun glanced at him, letting his last comment go before he shrugged. 

“We wouldn’t be alive if we couldn’t lie,” he said, “That’s it. I mean it when you say you lie or you die.” 

As they headed towards the elevator, they were careful not to draw any unwanted attention from the androids that patrolled the area. The androids stared at them, but after glancing at their wrists, didn’t bother approaching. Luckily there were no agents who could have taken one look at them and sent them to detainment. 

Jongin had expected trouble the second that they walked into the building, so he was surprised that they had survived one minute without having to pull out a gun. Three minutes. And now ten.

But after fifteen minutes had passed and after they had arrived on the proper floor, a few hallways away from the android department, trouble finally came.

“Three androids incoming,” Joohyun abruptly said, causing Jongin to sharply inhale, “On your left.”

“Ignore them,” Sehun said to Jongin, marching forwards with his hands shoved in his pocket, no doubt ready to pull out one of his many concealed guns if necessary.   

Jongin tried his best to copy Sehun, to mimic his composure. But he couldn’t control the way his hands had begun to shake, the way his chest had tightened. It had been a mistake for him to ever apply for field agent status in A.S.S., and Jongin never could quite shake the fear or tame the adrenaline whenever he was thrust into dangerous situations. 

The androids stopped them anyways for a brief interrogation, but Sehun sent them away with a few smooth lies. 

“Stop looking so scared. We’re fine,” Sehun insisted as they continued onwards, two corridors away from the android section. 

“You have ten minutes before the android department shuts down for maintenance and server upgrade,” Joohyun announced.

“Easy,” Sehun said, “We’ll be there in three.” 

He spoke too soon. 

“Sehun, turn around,” Joohyun ordered, “A.S.S. agent incoming. I’m sure they’ll recognize you.” 

As Sehun spun around, Jongin realized that Joohyun had neglected to mention there was a chance he would be recognized, too. Which is exactly what happened. 

“Jongin?” the agent said right as Jongin was about to turn around and start walking in the opposite direction, “What are you doing here?” 

Sehun could have easily left him, sprinted ahead to make it through the android department in time. But instead, he stayed with Jongin, though kept his back turned. This was something Jongin would have to solve himself.

Jongin swallowed, realizing he’d met this agent a few times before during branch meetings. He knew if he opened his mouth now, everything would go wrong, so he didn’t and hoped the panic in his eyes wasn’t as noticeable as he thought it was. But from the way the agent narrowed his eyes, Jongin knew it was all wishful thinking. This was the problem with human agents after all. Androids, despite all of their technological advances, could be tricked with a lie. They did not have the human capacity to process emotions no bracelet could ever sow. 

“I’m here for work,” Jongin said, slowly exhaling when his bracelet remained green. He struggled to pull every word out of his throat, and if he weren’t careful, the shakiness of his voice would give him away before the color of his bracelet did. “ 

“What type of business?” the agent asked, glancing at Jongin’s wrist before looking back up. 

“Family business,” Jongin said, thanking every single god out there that his bracelet was somehow still green. 

“Who in your family? Why do you need to be here for that?” the agent asked. Jongin hated how thorough A.S.S. training was. Agents were always taught to question until there was nothing left to ask, until there was nothing else to hide. 

Jongin’s mind chose this moment, of all moments, to blank and fail him. He opened his mouth, knowing he _needed_ to respond, but after silence sounded, the agent put a hand on top of his gun and stepped closer.   

“Why is it so hard for you to answer?” the agent asked, fingers curling around the handle of the gun, “The Director’s briefed us on what’s happened, so honestly if anything, I doubt your loyalty to us. You’ve become an assassin haven’t you? And who’s standing beside you? Why haven’t they turned around to face me? What are both of you hiding?” 

Jongin felt every question pierce his chest and dig deeper and deeper into his heart, struggling to breathe as the agent continued to throw out accusation after accusation, question after question in the hopes of finally ensnaring Jongin in a lie. He watched, a scream frozen in his throat as the agent reached out to tap his bracelet and activate the alarms. But before his finger could hover anywhere near the button, Jongin heard a shot. 

Saw a body to the floor. 

Watched the blood spill out onto the spotless, flawless floor. 

The threat was gone, but Jongin still couldn’t breathe, slowly twisting his neck to look at Sehun, who’d fired the gun without even bothering to turn around to make the shot. 

“Stop asking so many fucking questions,” Sehun said, lowering his gun as he finally turned around. After glancing at the body on the floor and noticing how Jongin stared at him, he quickly concealed his gun and mumbled out an apology. “Sorry.” 

“We could’ve…we could’ve just knocked him _out_ ,” Jongin stammered, fingers flying to tear at his hair, “Sehun oh my _god_.”

“If he was the only thing standing between us and Jongdae, I’d make that choice again,” Sehun said, walking over to grab the body by the arms. He searched the area before choosing the large potted plant as the hiding place for his most recent sin. “Dead men can’t speak, so I’ll face him when I’m gone. I’ll answer for the blood on my hands when I’m dead.” 

But from the way Sehun so casually spoke, Jongin wondered if Sehun believed that same bullshit belief that Jongdae did: that they’d stay alive by sheer force of pure will. That their love was enough to power their hearts for eternity. That they’d never die. 

Jongin tore his eyes away from the body, careful not to step into the trail of blood as he tried not to think of the agent’s family that had no idea they were about to endure the worst day of their lives. 

“Come on,” Sehun said, tugging Jongin’s arm after successfully hiding the body. The blood still stained the floor, but there was no time to clean up the mess, to wash the sins away. Jongin jerked his hand back, afraid of the blood that stained Sehun’s hands. “We have to go before they find the body and trigger the alarms. Joohyun, the cams are still covered, right?”

Sehun looked around him before briskly striding towards the android department. Jongin wondered how Sehun could be so _calm_ , so _composed_ , but he supposed Sehun’s collected demeanor was a product of years of kills, endless targets and hits. 

“Like you even need to ask,” Joohyun smoothly replied. 

“You’re just…okay with all of this?” Jongin said as he stood in his tracks, replaying that exact moment the agent’s body had hit the floor. Sehun glanced behind him before letting out a sigh, grabbing Jongin’s hand to tug him along.   

“Us or them,” Sehun said, looking over his shoulder once again to make sure they hadn’t been followed, “That’s the mindset you have to have. If I didn’t pull the trigger, he would have.” 

“It didn’t have to be like that,” Jongin weakly said.  

“It did,” Sehun, dragging Jongin along. His eyes darted around the hallway, scanning their vicinity for any possible threat. “And it does. When you’ve lived the life I’ve lived, you trust no one, and you attack before you’re attacked. That’s how it works.” 

Jongin couldn’t find anything to say, feeling his legs move without his will. He couldn’t understand, and he never would understand because he’d grown up with a mother and sisters who’d given him all their love and trust always. 

Two androids walked towards them, and Sehun attempted to brush past them before one grabbed Sehun’s shoulder and forced him to stay. The other android stared at Jongin, tilting their head as they noticed the wild look on his expression. 

“Nothing is wrong, correct?” they asked, “There is no reason for your shaky hands or the tears in your eyes. Correct?” 

Jongin, who had promised Sehun he would shut up and not mess things up, absolutely did not shut up and most definitely messed things up in this single second, too overwhelmed by what he had seen to remember the plan. 

“No,” Jongin blurted out, “ _No._ ” 

The android’s eyes flashed, beginning to mirror that same damning color that appeared on Jongin’s wrist. 

“That is a lie. You will be detained,” they said. Immediately, their arms twisted, hands clawing for Jongin. Sehun swore, ducking as an android swung at him. 

“What the fuck did I say about keeping quiet?” Sehun shouted. 

“Not to make things worse, but there are three minutes until the doors close,” Joohyun reminded him. 

“Sorry,” Jongin shouted, ducking his head to avoid being strangled by an android. There was no reason to pull out his gun since these androids weren’t armed, so he continued dodging and pushing them away as best as he could. 

But Sehun was not Jongin and pulled out his gun, shooting the android twice in the head and once in the chest before shooting the android attacking Jongin without watching the bodies fall. Jongin panted, leaning over to catch his breath, hating how Sehun didn’t even seen winded. 

“Targets spotted. Detainment mandatory,” a mechanical voice echoed down the hall. Jongin turned, gasping as he watched three more androids charge towards them. 

“Great,” Joohyun said, “Their friends found you. It seems the ones you took care of didn’t activate the network alarm and sent an alert through their communications system, which I don’t have immediate access to since they’re on a private server.” 

“Thanks for telling me you’re useless right now,” Jongin said, not having the capacity to listen to how quickly Irene snapped back. 

“Run,” Sehun said, shaking Jongin’s shoulder after taking one look at the androids, “If we fight, then we won’t make the door in time.” 

Jongin didn’t have to be told twice and fled, following Irene’s directions as they tore down the hallways, their heartbeats reverberating in their chest, and their footsteps echoing down the corridors. 

“There,” Sehun said, pointing ahead. The door to the android department had started to close, but the gap was still large enough for them to easily run through. 

“Exit through the back and turn right. The elevator there will take you to detainment,” Joohyun said. 

Jongin squinted, lifting his legs and pumping his arms faster and faster as he saw the backdoor meters away. The door continued to slide shut, but if they kept their pace, they’d be able to squeeze through. All of a sudden, Jongin heard a shout but continued running, too afraid of not making the door in time to look behind him. After reaching the door, Jongin was just about to push through before he wondered where Sehun was. 

He gasped after looking across the room. The androids must have shot Sehun with a metal manacle, one that snaked around his legs and caused him to stumble as the metal tightened. In the time it’d taken for Sehun to fall, the androids had surrounded him and beat him with batons. Luckily, if detainment was the mission, then guns were not advised.

Despite being confined to the floor, Sehun didn’t even look helpless, didn’t even look concerned. He was two feet down and still clawing his way back up. Scratched up, blood trickling down the side of his head and still fighting. Jongin glanced behind him, bouncing on his toes as he watched the door slowly shut. He could still fit through the crack, but he had a choice. The door, or Sehun. Life, or the androids. 

Across the room, surrounded by the androids, Sehun locked eyes with Jongin from the floor and nodded grimly.   

“Go,” Sehun shouted, gesturing Jongin to _run_ , “Go before the door closes and find Jongdae.” 

Jongin hesitated. Logically, he should have chosen the door since it seemed much safer there than here. But after watching the way the androids mercilessly beat Sehun, not stopping even as he had thrown his hands over his head to protect himself, Jongin disobeyed.   

Surprising his own self, Jongin sprinted back, barreling into one android with a yell before clocking another straight across the face. He expected punching a piece of humanoid metal would have hurt more, much like hitting a brick wall or a slab of concrete, but his fist miraculously didn’t feel broken. Beside him, Sehun swept the android’s feet from underneath them and wrestled the android to the floor before managing to reach his gun. 

Jongin heard three shots and knew who had won without looking. 

Four shots later, both of them lay on the floor, recovering from the fight. Three androids lay crumped around them with maroon oil leaking out of their bodies while rows and rows of deactivated androids watched, motionless, from their glass cages.

“The door,” Sehun said, pointing in front of them before dropping his hand into his lap, “Fuck.” 

The door had shut long ago, locking them into the android department for the next hour. Sehun shook his head and slammed his hand on the floor, letting out a frustrated yell. Jongin said nothing, only crawled towards Sehun and entered a series of codes to unlock the manacle restricting Sehun’s feet. A.S.S. used these manacles for training purposes, to test how agents would fight if they’d lost the use of their legs. Androids used them to detain. 

As soon as Jongin freed him, Sehun sprinted towards the door. Jongin, who had been in this exact situation and knew better, reserved his energy and continued to sit. He watched as Sehun tried everything, tried slamming his shoulder against the wall again and again and again, even resorting to pulling out a knife to try and pry the door open. After ten minutes of failure, Sehun finally gave up, sliding down onto the floor, resting his back on the door. 

“This is your fault,” Sehun said, staring up at the ceiling as he slammed the door with his hand one last time. 

Jongin pushed himself up off the ground, silently walking towards Sehun before sitting beside him, remembering to keep some space between them. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier to say thanks for saving my life,” Jongin said. Yeah, they’d been too late to reach the door, but at least Sehun was alive, right? 

“I don’t need saving,” Sehun stubbornly said. Jongin regretted that he’d ever gone back for Sehun. “I’m me, remember? You could’ve run ahead and found Jongdae yourself, but now we’re stuck here for an _hour_ …They’ve probably got the exits covered by now, alerted people that we’re here now.” 

“I’m working on it,” Joohyun said, “They’ve upgraded security the last time Jongin was here, but I’ll handle it. Give me time.” 

“See? We’ll be fine,” Jongin said, fully aware he was reassuring himself more than he was reassuring Sehun. 

“This is what I get for thinking you’d be able to handle one small fight by yourself,” Sehun said, pressing finger to his temple, “When you have a partner…when you work with anyone, you have no choice but to trust that you can both fight back to back and side to side knowing that the other can handle themselves.” 

“And when your partner doesn’t, you save them,” Jongin said, reaching up to press fingers lightly on his abdomen before shivering, “I’ve been there before. I know.” 

Sehun shook his head and banged his head against the door once, staring up at the ceiling. Jongin averted his gaze, preferring to look at the ground instead of the immobile androids that kept them company in the room. 

“If you weren’t Jongdae’s brother…” Sehun said, trailing off before he could commit to the rest of the warning. 

Jongin was too taken aback by simple truth of Sehun’s words to feel threatened. He had a brother. Jongdae. 

“He could’ve told me,” Jongin sighed, leaning on the wall, clasping his hands together, “Why didn’t he tell me? Why wait until now?” 

“You know why,” Sehun said without looking at him. 

“Yeah. I guess he didn’t care enough to tell me that hey…I’m related to you. And hey…guess what. I killed our dad,” Jongin found himself saying. This was too much information to throw at him all in a span of a few days, and he struggled with believing what he had been told. 

He could feel Sehun look at him but continued to stare at the floor, tracing a swirling pattern into the polished marble.

“I lied,” Sehun said at last, “About earlier.”   

“Wow,” Jongin flatly said, “I’m so surprised.”

But he hesitated, looking up out of curiosity. 

“About what?” he asked at last, studying Sehun’s face to determine whether or not he was lying or not. But Sehun was too good at controlling his expression, too good at masking his countenance for Jongin to know.

“About Jongdae,” Sehun said.

“I thought both of you didn’t lie about each other,” Jongin said. Or was that also not true? 

“We don’t lie to each other,” Sehun said, “But I don’t trust you, so why would I tell you anything important about him? So you can get him into more trouble?” 

“Okay,” Jongin said, feeling his lower lip sink into a pout, “But what did you lie about?” 

“When I said he didn’t love you,” Sehun said, looking away again. He stared in front of him, almost passing for an android after remaining completely motionless. 

“Oh,” Jongin only managed to say, not sure how to respond. Because when? Because why?   

Why? 

Why, when they had never met until now? 

“I always said it wasn’t safe for him to do all these things for you, that it’d make it easier for us to get caught. But he didn’t care. He didn’t listen,” Sehun said, his turn to trace an unknown pattern on the floor. 

“What did he do?” Jongin slowly asked, crossing his hands across his chest, “What has he done for me? I don’t believe you…how could he have if the first time we met was about a week ago in my own home?” 

“You know that private high school you went to?” Sehun asked, gingerly touching the side of his head and finding blood, “That expensive for no reason snooty as fuck boarding school?” 

“Yeah,” Jongin said, “What about it?” 

“Jongdae paid all your tuition,” Sehun said. 

Jongin laughed. 

“Don’t lie, Sehun. The school gave me a scholarship,” Jongin said. There was no way he could have attended without that tuition, and he remembered his mother crying when she read the letter announcing his award. 

“Who do you think gave the school that money?” Sehun said, examining the blood on his hand before wiping it on the floor, “He called them and made some excuse…like he had money to burn, a scholarship to start. The school allowed him to choose the recipient after he argued with them for _days_. And he chose you.” 

Jongin blinked. 

“You’re lying,” Jongin said, “The school picked my application after the essay—” 

“He also paid your college tuition,” Sehun said, now tracing patterns into the floor with his blood. If Jongin were him, he would’ve just brushed the blood off on his pants, but of course he knew Sehun’s pants were probably worth more than Jongin’s entire wardrobe. “And he pays for half your rent so it’s cheaper.” 

Jongin stopped speaking. He thought his family had been lucky enough to not worry about struggling financially but it was all Jongdae? The reason why his mother could send Jongin to all the dance classes he wanted was because of Jongdae? The reason why Jongin was never a broke college kid working five jobs to pay tuition and survive was because of Jongdae? The reason why Jongin never struggled to pay rent on time was because of Jongdae? 

But that didn’t change anything. 

Jongdae was still Jongdae, and what he had done could never be erased or forgiven.

“Why?” Jongin shrugged, “When he doesn’t even know me? Is it the guilt of killing our father?” 

Had Jongdae accidentally discovered that the man he had killed had another family? A son that ran towards him for hugs and kisses instead of flinching and fleeing every time they were in the same room? 

Sehun’s shoulders began to shake, and a loud laugh burst from his lips. 

“You think Jongdae really gives a _fuck_ that your old man is dead? That he feels _sorry_ for killing him?” Sehun said between his laughter. He clapped, his laughter echoing in the room. Jongin wondered if it’d accidentally activate the androids around them and silently urged Joohyun to work faster.  

“He left me without a father,” Jongin said, “That’s sill unforgivable to me. If I had known, then I would’ve never accepted his money.”

Sehun finally stopped laughing, studying Jongin’s expression before he spoke again. 

“A father who hit both your mothers. And him,” Sehun said, lip curling upwards, “You really want a father like that?”

“No,” Jongin immediately said, raising a hand to stop Sehun, “You’re wrong. I never saw him hit my mother, so you’re wrong. I’m sorry Jongdae and his mother suffered, but my family never did. He was good to us.” 

“Just because you didn’t see it and just because she never talked about it doesn’t mean it never happened,” Sehun said. 

“No,” Jongin tried one more time before he shut up and remembered.

When Jongin was younger, he always asked about his father. Where did he go? What was he like? Would he be proud of him? He used to think his mother froze when he asked those questions because she missed his father too much, that the thought of him gone was too sad to talk about. Eventually he stopped asking, but he wondered if her refusal to answer was due to a different reason, one she hadn’t shared with him.

Though he was still in denial, Jongin felt tears prick his eyes and his heart sink to his chest at the mere thought of his mother suffering alone. 

“Then why?” Jongin asked, letting out a shaky exhale. He’d have to call her as soon as the job was done to ask if she was doing okay now, and to ask. About the past. “We’ve never met until this year. This month. Last week.” 

Sehun stared at him disapprovingly, his eyebrows raised upwards as if he couldn’t believe Jongin actually asked him that question.

“There’s only one thing, one reason why people should do anything at all,” Sehun said after giving Jongin a long look, “And the fact that you’re asking me means you haven’t experienced it enough or given it enough.” 

Jongin found this conversation all too familiar and mouthed the words as Sehun announced them. 

“Love, motherfucker. It’s love,” Sehun said, closing his fist and pounding his chest twice with it. “It’s heart.”

“So he loves me,” Jongin slowly said, wondering if this was what Sehun was trying to say, “But he shouldn’t. Especially after everything.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s going to stop,” Sehun said, “Especially after all of this. You think you could actually stop loving someone after they tell you not to?”

“No,” Jongin said, remembering Yixing, “I can’t do that at all.”

Sehun observed him for a second before switching the subject.

“Who’s your partner?” Sehun asked, “That uglyass motherfucker who murdered Seulgi? I’m not going to say anything about your taste right now, but…did you love him? Clearly something’s going on over there because otherwise you'd know exactly what I’m trying to say.” 

Jongin hid his face in his hands and breathed. This was all too much. Too many overwhelming conversations at once. At least Sehun let him take his time to breathe before he tried to answer. 

“Yixing,” he said. 

“Right. If I wasn’t going into retirement, you can bet Joohyun would have hired me to kill him…if she didn’t want to do it herself of course. So thanks for that info,” Sehun said, but from the way a small smile spread across his face, Jongin knew he was joking. Hoped. He _hoped_ Sehun was joking.

Jongin groaned and shifted his body, leaning the side of his head on the door as he faced Sehun. He would’ve considered dramatically throwing himself down on the floor, but he couldn’t imagine what those marble tiles had seen and didn’t want himself anywhere Sehun’s blood stain either.

“What happened between you?” Sehun asked.

What didn’t happen between them was the better question.

“I took a bullet meant for him,” Jongin said.   

“Seulgi’s bullet?” Sehun said. 

Jongin nodded, fingers automatically pressing into his scar. He habitually did so whenever he wondered how he was still alive, how he hadn’t actually died there on the ground in Yixing’s arms.

“When I woke up in the hospital somehow alive, the first thing he said after making sure I wouldn’t die in the next second was…if I was feeling okay. And that we should stop,” Jongin said, averting his gaze. His voice softened as he spoke, almost a whisper as he finished. “So we stopped.” 

That didn’t mean it was easy to stop loving Yixing, no. Not at all. Even when they were separated, Jongin often wondered how Yixing was doing today, hating that they worked only a floor apart. How Yixing was spending his nights that they’d usually spend together. If he had another work partner yet. If anyone else was keeping his bed warm yet. If someone else had snatched Yixing’s heart, ripped it out of Jongin’s hands yet.  

Sehun eyes widened as he listened.   

“And you let him walk away from you like that?” Sehun asked, sitting up straighter. 

“Well, he was very clear about what he wanted, and I want to respect his wishes,” Jongin said, feeling something reach into his chest and squeeze his heart. It wasn’t any easier to talk about that now, even after three months. “I guess he changed his mind about me.”

Sehun exhaled loudly and muttered something his breath. Jongin only caught the beginning of the curse and didn’t bother listening for the rest. 

“I take it back. You’re the second weakest person I know. This Yixing of yours is the weakest motherfucker I’ve ever heard of,” Sehun clucked his tongue, “If he saw you take that bullet for him, saw you claw yourself out of hell to live, and his only conclusion was to end things, then…” 

Sehun aggressively jabbed his thumb downwards. Somehow it felt a thousand times more disapproving than a middle finger raised to the skies. 

“Well, he wanted it,” Jongin tried to defend him even now, “and I was kind of on a thousand different types of pain medication and struggling to even open move, so I just. Didn’t verbally disagree.” 

It certainly didn’t help with his recovery progress, but even after Yixing had said they were done, he’d still stayed to take care of Jongin until death retreated from the shadows to hunt another victim. So maybe if Yixing had finished things and then left without another word, it would have been easy for Jongin to move on and hate the man who had left him when he needed him most. Now he was still the man Jongin took a bullet for and would take another thousand bullets for if needed. Even if he wasn’t wanted anymore.

And now that Jongin was running around with the very people they both swore to stop, he could only imagine what this would do to their already strained relationship. If they even had a relationship, platonic or not, at all. 

“It’s easy to love. But to keep that love, you’ve got to fight for it,” Sehun said, making a fist with a hand and punching his other to emphasize his point, “and if you don’t fight for what you love and who you love, you’re a fucking coward.” 

“But he’s the bravest person I know,” Jongin weakly protested.

“Wrong,” Sehun shut him down immediately, “Don’t you know it’s so easy to die? So if you fought to live for Yixing after saving him, and he still sent you away like that means he doesn’t deserve you. Yixing is spelled C-O-W-A-R-D and that’s that. _Pathetic_.”

“You’re the wrong one,” Jongin continued to protest, “He’s brave. You should’ve seen how fearlessly he fought while we were on missions together.”

How Yixing was the first one to respond to situations, the first to chase after assassins they were investigating, the first one to throw himself in harm’s way as soon as an assassin started shooting back in a civilian area. But Jongin had been the first to do so last time. And look where they were now. 

“That’s clearly an old, wrong opinion. One made before you knew Jongdae,” Sehun said. 

Jongin paused, taking a moment to remember who he was sitting with. 

“And you. I guess,” Jongin said, watching a drop of blood trail down the side of Sehun’s head and splatter on the floor. 

Sehun’s eyebrows shot upwards, and though he opened his mouth to speak, Jongin continued before he had to hear what Sehun would say. 

“Don’t worry,” Jongin hastily said, “I know we’re still not friends. But I just wanted to say that. It couldn’t have been easy for you and Jongdae to survive with A.S.S. always hunting and investigating you.” 

Of course, it was a well-deserved investigation given the industry they both worked in, but that didn’t mean they weren’t brave. 

Sehun stayed quiet for a moment, silently considering Jongin’s words before finally speaking. 

“I was only going to say that I was wrong,” Sehun said, “You’re braver than you look, Jongin. Maybe in ten years, I’ll even say I’m glad you’re a part of this family.” 

That wasn’t anywhere near a compliment, close to anything nice, but Jongin beamed all the same and reached forwards to poke Sehun’s arm. He was too busy grinning that he didn’t notice Sehun’s lips slightly curl up. Maybe it could have been like this in another time, another life. If things weren’t different. Maybe they could’ve attended the same college, studied together, danced together, had fun together. Maybe Jongin would have brought his friend home one day and that’s how Sehun would’ve met his older brother Jongdae. Or maybe Jongin would have met his best friend on the day Jongdae introduced the love of his life to him.

There were many possibilities, and yet they lived in this life, sitting on opposite sides of a system that had no winner, no leader but chaos, no god but death. And here, Jongin was an ex-A.S.S. agent sitting next to Sehun, lethal assassin. It would be foolish to think of how it could have been instead of thinking what had caused those possibilities to stay impossible. 

For the rest of the time, they traded stories. Jongin told him that he’d always been lonely after his sisters left for boarding school, how he wasn’t allowed to play outside since his mother wanted to eliminate any chances of petitions written against him. In return, Sehun told him that after he ran away, he met other kids like him, kids who’d lost both parents to petitions. But he never trusted any of them, as they’d stab him in the back for a lick of ice cream anytime. Sehun had conditioned himself to trust no one except his own self, and that was exactly how he had managed to live this long. That’s what he told Jongin anyways. 

“Then how did you learn to trust Jongdae?” Jongin asked. 

The mere mention of Jongdae caused Sehun to perk up, to sit a little straighter, to erase the scowl from his face and slip on a wide smile.   

“If you want to know that, then I have to tell you how we met,” Sehun said. 

“How did you meet?” Jongin indulged him even though he already knew. 

Sehun leaned back against the door, placing his hands behind his head as he sighed. 

“I’m not saying I fell for him at first sight, but—”

“But you fell for him at first sight.” 

“Yeah.” 

Jongin suddenly remembered every single moment Jongdae had spent talking fondly about Sehun and wondered what he and Sehun did when they were together. Did they compliment each other always? Talk like this to make their each other’s cheeks blush always? 

“We were young. Teenagers,” Sehun recalled, staring at the ceiling lights as he spoke. “And we both hung out at the same concert halls and stadiums looking for work.” 

Work was a liberal term for what they did. Who knew that the central hub of all murderous, criminal activity was centered around concerts?

“So I was sitting at the bar of a stadium enjoying my shots of top-grade organic milk with eight grams of fat,” Sehun said, because of course that was his drink of choice, “And all of a sudden, the doors swing open, and in walks the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen in my whole entire life. _Like?_ What the _fuck_?” 

“And then what?” Jongin laughed, enjoying how expressive Sehun was when he talked about Jongdae.

“He looked like he’d been hit by a train,” Sehun clucked his tongue, “There was blood staining his hands, dripping down his head, and honestly it was hard to know if it was his blood or someone else’s blood that drenched his clothes. I looked around, wondering if anyone was going to get him a medic, but I shouldn’t have been surprised when everyone looked the other way. I’m telling you, Jongin. Most people only look out for their own selves.”

“I thought it was just you,” Jongin said though he knew that was a lie, “It isn’t normal to distrust everyone but yourself. That isn’t good.” 

“… _Anyways_ ,” Sehun said, waving Jongin aside, “As soon as he reached the counter and almost collapsed next to it, this one ugly guy a few chairs down stands up and grabs Jongdae by the front of his tank top…To be like this, but even back then Jongdae had the best arms, and—” 

“I get it,” Jongin shut him down, “I _know_.” 

“So the man starts accusing Jongdae of stealing his kill, stealing his job. And you know what Jongdae did? He was bleeding out onto the floor, death probably whispering in his ear and asking to hold his hand, but he just stared at that man, slid on the laziest, the smuggest smirk I’d ever seen in my life, and mouthed off. That snark, Jongin…That life in him, Jongin…He was so incredibly sexy holy _sh—”_  

“I think we have different definitions of sexy,” Jongin weakly said. Sehun told this story differently than Jongdae did, but that didn’t mean Jongin wanted to pretend he heard nothing at all.   

“Different spellings, too,” Sehun nodded, “I spell it J-O-N-G-D-A-E but you, you poor thing…you probably spell it Y-I-X-I-N-G  T-H-A-T  F-U-C-K-I—” 

“ _Okay_ ,” Jongin said, holding up a hand to let Sehun know that was _enough_. “Can we please skip to the part where you explain to me how Jongdae became the only person you trust? Or, if you prefer, we can sit in silence and _not_ talk about—”

“I want to finish,” Sehun complained. 

“Just _skip_ ,” Jongin ordered. He wouldn’t last if he had to listen to how Sehun saved Jongdae from the man and how they spent the rest of the night talking and gazing at each other until the bartender kicked them out.

“Fine,” Sehun pouted before his expression relaxed and he sighed, “I mean…Even though I was interested in Jongdae, I told him I couldn’t trust him. But he didn’t give up on me no matter how many times I tried to push him away for my own good. He liked me enough to stay, to keep trying even when I said I couldn’t…I couldn’t give my heart to him because it would hurt too much when he burned it.” 

“So what did you do?” Jongin asked. 

“I gave it to him anyways,” Sehun shrugged, “What else could I do? When someone that beautiful, that brave, that bold loves you with all their heart and fights for you with all their soul, then you’ve got to be a motherfucking fool if you ran away.” 

“So you were whipped, too,” Jongin translated, “and he was someone that made you break all your rules, that made you fear nothing but watching him breathe for the last time.” 

“Yeah,” Sehun nodded, “You get it.”

Of course Jongin did. After all, that was how he had reacted after meeting Yixing. Though he moved away from his mother for college, he kept the habits she taught him. Stay inside as much as possible. Only go outside if necessary. Be vigilant and never give your name if you don’t need to. So Jongin divided his free time between his dorm and his university’s dance practice room, spending his nights with only booming music for company. 

And then came Yixing. 

Then came Yixing one night asking if he could share the practice room with Jongin.

“What’s your name?” he asked. 

“Jongin. Kim Jongin.” 

The words had slipped out of his mouth before he realized what he’d done. 

And that was that. After many more late-night practice room meetings, Yixing had asked Jongin to perform a song together for a concert, had asked him to dinner right after that, and the rest was…not worth talking about since they were done. 

“Then I made a mistake,” Sehun said, shaking Jongin out of the past, “I thought that I could start trusting other people because trusting and loving Jongdae was the best part of my life. I was wrong.” 

“What happened?” Jongin asked. 

“I trusted the wrong person,” Sehun said, “I thought we were friends, but he saw me as a quick way to make money. One second we’re meeting for drinks. The next second, he’s called androids on me, and before I know it, they’ve grabbed me and dumped me into an armored car with other scared kids.”   

“They took you _here_?” Jongin asked, pointing a finger downwards. This was what Sehun had meant when he’d said he’d been in detainment before?   

“I don’t remember much,” Sehun said, sinking his lips downwards into a frown, “I don’t remember what the hallways looked like or what they did. But I do remember being sedated, being strapped to a stretcher. I don’t think they bothered waiting for me to fall unconscious before they cut straight through my chest.” 

“Oh my god,” Jongin said, hands rushing to his face as Sehun lifted up his shirt to reveal a long, vertical scar through the center of his chest. A geometric heart had been tattooed on the center of Sehun's chest, but it did little to hide the scar completely. 

“I can’t remember much after that,” Sehun said, “I think it must’ve been too painful for me to process…But just before my mind finally fucked off and let me fall unconscious, I heard gunshots. A voice shouting… _You touched him? You fucking hurt him? You’re dead…all of you_.” 

Sehun raised his eyebrows, and trailed off, though Jongin could picture it well. Jongdae slamming the door open, eyes blazing and intent murderous. Jongdae shooting every enemy in the room before carrying Sehun out of the building himself. Jongdae pressing kisses to Sehun’s forehead while promising he wouldn’t bleed out, he wouldn’t die right here. 

“The rest of this building is a blur, maybe something I repressed from my memory, but I still remember his words. I still remember him coming for me when I thought no one else would,” Sehun slowly said, staring into nowhere as he continued recounting his experience, “And when I woke up with stitches in my chest, with Jongdae hovering over me, taking care of me and kissing the last fragments of unconsciousness from me before asking how was I doing, that was it. That was absolutely it. If I could only trust and love one person in this world, then you already know whose name I’d say.”  

“This heart?” Sehun said, tapping his chest with a fist, “It’s Jongdae’s. I’m all his, and he’s all mine forever, until the end of time.” 

Jongin hesitated before asking Sehun the same question he’d asked Jongdae a while ago.

“Would you die for him?” 

“If it came to it, yes. Of course,” Sehun said without hesitating, without even batting an eye, “But it won’t ever come to that because we live for each other, and we’ll suffer anything and tell death to fuck off for each other.” 

“And there really is no one else?” Jongin said, confirming the way Sehun thought. None of the A.S.S. reports had mentioned this part of him at all. The researchers called Sehun a cold-hearted killer who never worked well in a team. If only they could know all of this. “No one else you love that much, you trust that much…Not even Joohyun?”

Sehun shook his head, at least aware Joohyun wouldn’t know how he’d responded unless she was watching from the cams. 

“It’s easier that way,” Sehun softly said, “When people betray you, you can at least say that you saw it coming. It’s easier to be betrayed by someone you didn’t trust than someone you did. It hurts less.” 

Jongin thought about how he’d done exactly that already. Betrayed Jongdae and gave him away.

“Could you ever trust me?” Jongin asked. Since he came to him for help? Since they were working together? Since he saved his life?   

Before Sehun could even react, the door behind them clicked. Whether or not Joohyun had managed to unlock the door early or if an hour had passed that quickly, Jongin didn’t know. Sehun said nothing, only furrowed his brows at Jongin’s question before standing up and waiting for the door to slide open. He gave Jongin one last, lingering look before heading outside. Jongin followed with a sigh. Every time he felt that he was making progress with Sehun, he was proven wrong again and again after Sehun took ten steps back, keeping his distance to protect himself.

Unlike the bright lights of the hallways around A.S.S. and D.O.U.C.H.E., this hallway was dimly lit, the darkness only hindered by the vertical stripes of green light on the ceiling that cast a sickly glow on their skin. 

At the end of the hallway, there was nothing but a pair of elevator doors. No hallway to the right, no corridor to the left. Nowhere else to go but down there. Jongin pressed the only button on the wall, a down arrow, and almost gasped after the doors immediately slid open with a pleasant _ding._  

Jongin and Sehun shared a look before they stepped inside the elevator. Green lines patterned the walls like the inside of a hard drive, and the floor was nothing but spotless glass. Jongin desperately stared at the ceiling, knowing he’d go straight into cardiac arrest if he even glanced at the ground.

The screen announcing the floors they were traveling through must have glitched because there was no way this could be right. 

400. 

-295 

-1885,69 

After ten seconds, the elevator slowed to a stop, sliding open its doors. 

 _“Get out,”_ a mechanical voice pleasantly told them after they continued standing inside, “Get out or else." 

Jongin didn’t need to be told twice and leaped out of the elevator, immediately reaching up to touch his ear with a wince. Static buzzed through their comms, causing Sehun to tap his ear repeatedly.

“Joohyun?” Sehun asked, “Are you there?”   

“I think we’re too deep into the ground to maintain connection,” Jongin said, ripping out his own comms since there was no use for them any longer.

“So we’re on our own,” Sehun said, beginning to walk down the hallway even though neither knew what they’d find here. 

“It’s not like we knew what to expect here anyways,” Jongin said, recalling how detainment was only designated with a rectangular block with no specificities on the floor plan. 

“But he has to be here,” Sehun said, “He _has_ to be.” 

Jongin kept silent as he matched Sehun’s pace, not wanting to discourage him. Though both kept their guns out and ready, no agent leapt out to stop them, and no android reached out to grab them with robotic claws. 

Instead, they were met with narrow cells separated by dark walls and closed off by red lasers. It was hard to see clearly under the dim, crimson light, but in the shadows, Jongin saw people laying on the floor, pounding at the wall, or rocking back and forth. Once they noticed Sehun and Jongin, they crawled forwards, careful not to touch the lasers, and screamed for help, for mercy, for anyone who could take them home again. 

“Do you remember this?” Jongin whispered, reaching out to grab Sehun’s sleeve as they slowly strode past the cells. It was a wonder he was heard at all after all the dissonance that echoed through the space. 

“No,” Sehun shook his head, his eyes wide, “Not at all.” 

“Because it wasn’t like this before? Or because you didn’t want to remember something like this?” Jongin said, deciding a piece of fabric was not enough and grabbing onto Sehun’s arm instead. 

“I…I don’t know,” Sehun said, placing a hand over his mouth, “This is really detainment?” 

There was nothing to do except shine the light of their bracelets over the cells, trying to harden their hearts to the desperate pleas, to look away once haunted eyes looked back at them. 

“Jongdae?” Sehun called out, quickly moving from cell to cell to find him. 

“Jongdae?” Jongin softly said, lingering on every cell, unable to look away, forced to remind himself that these people were here for a good reason. Maybe they were murderers, maybe they were serial liars. They were absolutely terrible people, Jongin forced himself to remember after spotting a little boy no older than ten.    

There must have been hundreds of cells, hundreds of detained civilians here, but after fifteen minutes of frantic searching, it was clear Jongdae wasn’t here. Jongin had to look away from Sehun’s face, too affected by how quickly it had crumbled after Jongin had told him he hadn’t found him either.

“But he has to be here,” Sehun said, kicking at the floor, craning his neck to check that the crying woman trapped in the cell beside them was not Jongdae.

“Maybe there’s another wing of cells we can check?” Jongin suggested. He tilted his head down the hallway, “Let’s go find him.”

Sehun glumly nodded, allowing Jongin to clutch his arm and lead him away from the cells. In the next section, there was only a single door positioned on the right side of the hall. After cautiously twisting the doorknob and entering, they found themselves surrounded by computer screens of all sorts of sizes. The largest screen was positioned in the back of the room, easily towering over the two of them. 

“I’ll try and search for his location,” Jongin said, carefully taking a seat in front of the screen and placing his fingers above the keyboard, “Wouldn’t it be funny if he wasn’t here?”

“That’s not funny,” Sehun bluntly said, giving Jongin a rough shove. 

“ _You’re_ not funny,” Jongin childishly said, pushing Sehun back before hovering his hands over the keyboard once again, staring at the keys bordered by thin green lines. He took a deep breath before pulling up the database and slowly typing in Jongdae’s name, dragging out each and every letter, dreading the moment he’d hit enter. 

Sehun slammed his finger on the enter button for him, and Jongin watched between his fingers as Jongdae’s page appeared on the screen.

 

KIM JONGDAE 

STATUS: TERMINATED

 

Jongin blinked, not quite understanding what he was reading, what he was seeing. A large, blurry picture of Jongdae had been blown up, twice the size of both Jongin and Sehun combined. A red X had been placed over his face, and even after Jongin looked away, the image of the X burned into his vision.   

“No,” Sehun forcefully said, “… _No_. That’s not possible.”

“Jongin,” he said, turning to grab Jongin’s shoulders and staring at him with wide eyes, “Tell me that’s not possible.” 

Sehun was waiting for Jongin to tell him of course this information was false, of course Jongdae wasn’t actually gone yet, of course Jongdae wasn’t dead. That look Sehun gave him now would haunt him forever if he didn’t slow down and logically study the situation.

“Hang on,” Jongin said, studying the screen again, “His status says terminated…Is there a difference between termination and extermination? Or did some intern forget the E-X.” 

“Oh,” Sehun said struggling to stay calm. If it was bright enough, Jongin would’ve been able to see the way Sehun’s hands shook, the way his eyes were pricked with tears. “The difference is that Jongdae’s still alive.” 

He didn’t make any sense, but Jongin let him continue to blurt out protests, to insist that there was a mistake, that these million-dollar computer systems had no idea what they were talking about.

Jongin rested his hands on the keyboard, hesitating before he minimized the file, erasing Jongdae’s face from the screen before pulling up another search engine. 

“What are you doing?” Sehun asked, breath hitching in his throat. 

“I can search for a list of people who’ve been exterminated…I think,” Jongin said. He’d never done so, never had any reason to do so until now. “If Jongdae’s name is here, too, then we’ll know it isn’t a mistake.” 

“It _is_ a mistake,” Sehun loudly insisted. 

Jongin ignored him, focusing on the search, but after he typed Jongdae’s name, pressing enter resulted in nothing but a loud _beep_. 

“It’s locked,” Jongin said, watching the screen flash red for a moment. 

“Well, do _something_ ,” Sehun said, gesturing at the screen, “Tell me he’s still alive.” 

Jongin messed around with the system, recalling enough of what he’d read in the computer manual to force a login page to pop up, prompting him to type in his username and password.

Surely a search like this using his own credentials was traceable, but wasn’t this why Jongdae and Sehun had insisted on working with him in the first places? So he could give them passwords and keys and secrets whenever they wanted? 

Was Jongdae worth it? Worth risking his credentials for?

After taking a quick look at Sehun, finding him peeking through his fingers and staring at the screen with wide eyes, Jongin typed in his password without any further hesitation. He was aware that the Director had probably been notified of his presence in the building and his search history by now, so there was no time to waste. After typing Jongdae’s name once more, he hit enter and watched the green loading bar fill.

 

ACCESS DENIED.

 

Sehun completely covered his eyes behind his hands and sank down on the floor. 

“Jongin…” he said, sounding younger than he really was, “ _Do something_. I know he’s not dead, but…” 

Jongin rapidly backspaced, debating between two choices. One. He could walk away and pretend like they were never here. Two. Try again with Yixing’s username and password. 

Of course, Yixing had never verbally told Jongin his password, but it was mandatory for people of his ranking to change passwords every couple of months. But as he was a selectively forgetful person who forgot doctor’s appointments but never dates with Jongin, Yixing liked keeping his perpetually changing passwords stored in the notes section of his phone as a contingency. While they were still together, Jongin had accidentally stumbled upon them once and…accidentally memorized them for no reason at all. 

There was a good chance that Yixing would never forgive him for this, but Jongin only had to remember the sound of Jongdae’s laugh echoing through an open stadium before typing Yixing’s password. As soon as he hit enter, the lights around the room abruptly changed from green to red, causing Jongin to snatch his fingers up from the keyboard as if they had been burned. 

Alarms blared, plunging the room into flashing light, and a calm voice announced pleasantly that this was an INTRUDER ALERT. INTRUDER ALERT. INTRUDER ALERT. Jongin had never sworn in his entire life, always told by his mother that it was a vile habit, but he had to admit he’d never been closer to screaming a very loud, prolonged swear. 

Sehun shouted the word for him instead.

“ _Fuck,”_ Sehun yelled, covering his ears with his hands, “What the fuck did you do?” 

“I accessed the database,” Jongin breathlessly said, fingers flying over the keyboard. Yixing’s password had granted him access to a drive with thousands and thousands of different files with names he didn’t recognize. 

“How long will it take for you to look through all of that?” Sehun asked, hovering over his shoulder. 

“Too long,” Jongin said, scrolling through the files named by a series of seemingly letters and numbers, “They’ll probably be here before I can finish looking through everything.” 

He looked over his shoulder, half expecting androids to burst through the front door at any moment. 

“Go,” Sehun urged, nudging Jongin with an elbow as he reloaded his gun, “I’ve got your back.” 

Jongin nodded and focused on searching for any information about Jongdae as Sehun waited, gun ready and pointed at the doorframe. After accidentally pressing the wrong button or inputting the wrong command, numerous blue prints of android technology popped on the screen. But Jongin didn’t have time to look through all the models devoid of circuitry before finally stumbling upon a file titled _TE_RM._ And clicked.

 _Stay calm_ was the only warning Sehun gave him before Jongin jumped in his seat, startled by the heavy gunfire that had begun. 

Jongin stared at the screen, feeling his shoulders tense, not willing to turn around. His heart slammed into his chest as he thought of how easy it would be to get shot right here, to die right here and never see it coming. He didn’t trust Sehun, but he trusted Sehun’s aim, his combat skills, and most of all, his love for Jongdae. So he wasn’t surprised when the gunfire faded into silence moments later. 

“Still alive?” Jongin asked, not liking how his voice sounded nothing more than a timid squeak. He didn’t dare turn around, holding his breath for Sehun’s reply. 

“Who the fuck do you think I am?” Sehun scoffed, not even sounding the slightest bit tired. 

“A legend,” Jongin blankly humored Sehun. He exhaled, stretching his fingers, ready to admit to anyone that the gunfire had frozen him, caused him to forget what exactly he was supposed to be doing until now. 

“Nah,” Sehun said, pulling bullets out of his pocket to reload his gun, “Jongdae’s the legend.” 

“Then who are you?” Jongin asked, pausing his search once more to give Sehun his attention.

“A survivor. And someone who’s going to lose it if you don’t hurry up,” Sehun said, jokingly pointing his gun at Jongin before moving it towards the doorway again, “I may be good, but I’m running out of bullets. Hurry up before more of them show up. If my guess is right, you have five minutes.”

“Okay, okay,” Jongin said, turning back to squint at the screen. 

But he didn’t have much luck with this file either, despite its promising name, frantically sorting through financial reports, building plans, and other files that had nothing to do with detainment or extermination at all. He couldn’t understand the logic behind this system, couldn’t crack how everything was sorted, so all he could do was hastily scan through every file and pray luck hadn’t joined hands with death to watch them fail. 

After three minutes of skimming through texts that would’ve made his college reading seem like a children’s novel, Jongin had the good fortune of _finally_ stumbling upon the termination file. He slowed down, taking his time to read and process the information. 

 _Termination protocol:_  

 _Subjects will be detained for anywhere from one week to two weeks to access usability._  

Usability?

_If useful, subjects will be terminated._

_If useless, subjects will be exterminated_. 

Jongin didn’t know what the difference between termination and extermination was, but he didn’t want to personally ever find out. None of this information would please Sehun, and Jongin was glad Sehun was staring at the screen as well so he wouldn’t have to break the bad news and the worse news to him. 

If Jongdae hadn’t been detained, then he would have been sent to termination, according to his preliminary status. 

Jongin scrolled through the file before stumbling upon more blueprints. This time, a blank sector had been added underneath detainment. Termination was an off-the-books department it seemed. 

“There’s no way this is legal,” Jongin said. This was the first he'd heard of termination, as he’d never found the word anywhere in their A.S.S. textbooks and training manuals. Yixing had never mentioned it to him either. 

“Here,” Jongin said, pointing towards the unlabeled section below them, “This is the only place we haven’t looked, so it’s our last chance to find him.” 

Unless he’d already been terminated. 

Whatever that meant. 

Jongin couldn’t bear to think about Jongdae already dead, feeling his stomach twist and churn unpleasantly. It had been less than a week since Jongdae had been taken, so they still had time. Hopefully. 

“All right. Let’s go,” Sehun nodded, “And take out your gun. It’s going to get messy.” 

Jongin hesitated before downloading the map and a few other files onto his bracelet before racing out the door with Sehun, ignoring the bodies of the androids they had left behind. They were just robots after all. There was no need to feel sad about broken mannequins and metal soldiers who hadn’t even been alive in the first place.

Sure enough, the android’s friends had found them, barking out alert after alert that fell to deaf ears as Jongin and Sehun raced towards the opposite direction. 

Jongin knew how to hold a gun, how to shoot a gun, but he did not know how to kill someone, did not know what it was like to shoot someone in the chest or the head because he had never tried. Unlike the other agents and Sehun and Jongdae, Jongin aimed for the arms, the legs. It had almost destroyed his chances of making A.S.S., but his written exam grade had been the highest out of the other trainees, so he’d ultimately been accepted. 

Unlike Jongin, Sehun aimed for the head and the heart. That was how androids were deactivated after all. Perhaps most of its circuitry and central systems were located where its heart and brain should've been, like a normal human.

Jongin held his wrist out in front of him, projecting the map from his bracelet so he could direct Sehun where to turn. In this section, red lights twisted through the black walls to offer sparse lighting, and the spotlights above continued to flicker between darkness and red light, alarms still blaring in the distance. If Jongin had the time to be afraid, then he would have been. 

“Right,” Jongin said, gesturing with a wild wave of his hand. Sehun obeyed without question, turning right when Jongin said right, left when Jongin said left. The heavy sound of boots thumping against the floor, echoed behind them, and Jongin knew if he turned around to check where the androids were, that would be his mistake. His final, fatal mistake.

But, because Jongdae and Sehun’s chaotic selves had clearly influenced him, Jongin looked back anyways, throwing his hands over his head as a bullet narrowly missed him. Six androids chased them, pulling the trigger of their guns over and over again as they demanded for them to stop and turn themselves in for detainment and interrogation. 

“I’ve got you. Just keep going,” Sehun shouted, pushing Jongin in front of him. He ran backwards, one arm raised to return fire, the other holding onto Jongin’s sleeve to make sure he wouldn’t get lost. 

“The elevator’s almost there,” Jongin yelled. Their running ripped Sehun’s hand off of his sleeve, but Jongin compensated by simply grabbing Sehun’s arm and pulling him along.

Three turns to go. 

All of a sudden, Sehun screamed at him to give him his gun, so Jongin did, fumbling with the handle before thrusting it into Sehun’s outstretched hand. After five seconds of gunfire, Sehun stretched out a hand wordlessly, and Jongin reached into his pocket in understanding before passing bullets over. Some spilled out of his hand, rattling against the floor after falling.

Two turns to go. 

This was when Jongin made the mistake of looking behind him again just in time to see a new squad of androids fall into formation with the original androids who had pursued them. These ones wore thicker armor, so there was nothing Sehun could do except run faster and pray they wouldn’t get shot. 

One turn to go. 

After turning the corridor, Jongin saw the elevator they needed to take in the distance, dragging Sehun along with him until they reached it, both jamming their fingers on the down button. If the androids caught up with them here, they’d be gunned down. Luckily, the elevator slid open instantaneously. Sehun pushed Jongin into the elevator first before leaping inside and jabbing his button on the door. Both of them pressed their backs to the walls of the elevator as bullets peppered the back wall. If they had peeked out of the elevator, they could’ve seen hordes of androids approaching. What had been six original androids had grown into twenty. 

Before the androids could reach the elevator, the doors closed, and the elevator dropped downwards, rumbling as the lights flickered. Jongin collapsed on the floor, checking himself for any wounds before thanking whoever was watching over them and kneeling by the control panel. 

“What are you doing?” Sehun asked. 

“When I was an A.S.S. trainee, everyone used to make fun of me for reading every manual and textbook available, but it’s all paid off now,” Jongin said as he fiddled with the wires, “I’m putting the detainment floor on emergency lockdown so they can’t follow us.” 

“Smart,” Sehun said, “I mean, that only temporarily solves our problem until we need to return to that floor with Jongdae, but…Nice.” 

After Jongin was sure he’d twisted and connected the right wires, he sat back down onto the floor and sighed. He closed his eyes, needing a brief break before he remembered what Sehun said. Closing his eyes in a time like this and sleeping in a public place were fatal mistakes. Jongin looked up instead, finding Sehun clutching his arm. 

“You’re hurt,” Jongin said, scrambling to his feet. They could never have a moment of peace could they. Was this what it was like for Jongdae and Sehun always? One injury after another? One fight after another? One near death experience after another? 

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch,” Sehun said, attempting to pull his hand away before reluctantly letting Jongin pry his fingers away from his arm. Jongin examined the wound, glad that the bullet had only grazed Sehun, not tore through his body.   

“We should’ve brought bandaids,” Jongin said, grateful it was only a long scratch. 

His words caused Sehun to laugh, to throw his head back and clap his hands together. His whole face brightened, and his eyes turned into crescents, lighting up the darkness inside the elevator. Sehun looked younger like this, like something had been lifted from his shoulders.

“You’re so funny,” Sehun said, a wide smile spreading across his face, “Bandaids? You think we have time for first aid? And where would we even store our bandaids? Next to our bullets?” 

“I’ve got it,” Jongin snapped his finger, “I usually keep some in my wallet.” 

As the elevator continued descending, the screen above the doors continued to announce the numbers. Neither of them were paying attention, but like the other elevator, the floor numbers were irregular, in an order no one could decode. 

\- 30. 

5000. 

-949.4 

Jongin rummaged through his wallet, flipping through a small stack of family pictures before pulling out a big bandaid.   

“You’re unbelievable,” Sehun said, holding still as Jongin pulled apart his shirt to access the wound easier. 

“In a good way or a bad way,” Jongin said as he removed the bandaid from its wrapper.  

“Good,” Sehun said a little softer. 

Jongin patted his arm for good measure after securely pressing the bandaid on the wound. 

“It’s pink,” Sehun said after examining his arm. 

“Is that a problem?” Jongin asked. Yixing liked pink, so it had been habitual to keep pink bandaids of all sizes when they worked missions. 

“No. Jongdae likes pink,” Sehun said. They shared a smile, a moment that Jongin wished could have been longer. But before they had time to do more, to talk more, the elevator doors slid open, reminding them that this was their reality. Not the one where they were friends bonding over bandaids. 

“He’s on this floor,” Sehun said, stepping out of the elevator, waiting for Jongin to exit before they continued walking down the hall. Bright white lights hung from the ceiling, reflecting unpleasantly around the walls made from mirrors. 

The map didn’t show any more specific details, and after circling around the same hallways for too long, it was clear there was only one way to find Jongdae if he was here.

“We’ll have to check all of them,” Jongin said once they turned the corner and found a familiar hall of doors. 

“We better start then,” Sehun said, racing forwards, using one hand to hold a gun and the other to roughly rattle the nearest doorknob. 

“It’s locked,” Sehun said, barreling against the door as if that would do anything. Jongin hesitated before typing in Yixing’s code, genuinely curious about how high Yixing’s clearance really was. He had his answer after the lock clicked and the door opened to reveal boxes of circuits and bolts of every size. Probably more android parts. 

“You have the clearance to be here?” Sehun asked, taking one final look before Jongin closed the door.

“No,” Jongin said, hesitating before he admitted, “But Yixing does.”

Sehun raised an eyebrow and said nothing more. He watched Jongin type in the password as they tried the next door before he trotted to the door beside Jongin and typed in the password.  Yeah, maybe it was a bad idea to give an assassin a high-level clearance password, but Jongin had other things on his mind, like the androids waiting for them in detainment, how much the Director knew about his involvement…and Jongdae. If he was dead or not. 

The next room Jongin checked contained more parts for androids. Robotic hands kept in glass cases. Glass eyes that glowed. Jongin forced himself to remember that they were just made out of metal…they were just made out of metal. Even if they looked real, like real human hands and real human eyes, they weren’t. 

“Don’t look in that one,” Sehun said beside him before briskly walking towards the next door a few meters away. 

“What’s in that one?” Jongin asked, jogging to catch up with him.   

“Just don’t,” Sehun shook his head, eyes slightly wide. Jongin wondered possible thing could make Sehun, one of the world’s deadliest assassins, that shaken. But because Jongin didn’t hate himself, he didn’t look and continued onwards. Termination so far seemed to be extra storage for everything that didn’t fit into the android department.

They continued looking, uninterrupted by the lack of androids and agents on the floor. Maybe this department’s defense was its secrecy, not its guns and guards. Jongin wasn’t complaining. He’d pick wandering through a creepy corridor over being shot at any day. 

After shutting the door behind a room that stored tanks of android oil, Jongin and Sehun ducked behind the corner of a hallway after hearing voices. Not the rigid, stiff voices of the androids, but the musical lilt of humans. Sehun cautiously peeked out from where they hid before tilting his head and reporting to Jongin what he’d seen.

“Doctors?” he whispered. 

“Where _are_ we?” Jongin asked, tapping his bracelet again to project the holographic map. But no matter how hard he zoomed into the levels below detainment, he could find no other specifics other than the exact dimensions of the entire department. This was termination, right? Or had they assumed wrong again? 

Sehun frowned before slowly taking another look. 

“I think…” Sehun said as he pressed his back to the wall and gripped his gun tightly, “I think…I’m starting to remember this.” 

“You’ve been here before?” Jongin whispered. Leaning over Sehun to take a peek at the next hallway.

“I don’t know,” Sehun said, “Maybe?” 

“Then we’re in the right place?” Jongin. 

“Then is there anything you remember?” Jongin loudly whispered, grateful there were no androids here to hear, “Anything that can help.” 

“People in coats like that,” Sehun pointed behind him, “And…Jongdae. Mostly I only remember Jongdae.” 

Jongin should have expected that answer and stood up with a sigh. 

“I hate suggesting this, but if that’s all you remember, then we should follow those doctors since it’s all we have for now,” Jongin said, stretching out his hand. 

Sehun nodded, taking Jongin’s hand and allowing Jongin to help him up. This time, Sehun trailed after Jongin as they followed the doctors, careful to keep their distance. The doctors led them to another wing in the department, one with circular windows placed in the doors. 

They split up, Jongin looking through the windows on the left and Sehun on the right. This must have been a hospital…or different jail cells. Through the first door Jongin looked through, there was a person laying cuffed to a bed, their whole face wrapped in gauze, save for a few holes to allow them to breathe. Jongin turned away, not wanting to look any more than he had to if Jongdae was not here. He checked on Sehun, feeling valid that Sehun was moving on from the rooms with equal briskness. Neither of them wanted to linger on what they saw inside those doors. Some patients had gauze wrapped only on their head, some no gauze at all. Jongin really questioned what these doctors really did after seeing too many blank stares, too many empty heads.

There were five more doors in this hallway for Jongin to check. The first door revealed another patient receiving a blood transfusion. There was no need for this one to be cuffed, and she sat still, staring at Jongin as she kept her arm steady and hooked to the bag of blood. Jongin ducked after meeting her gaze, creeping towards the next door feeling his heart lurch in his chest. 

Behind the next door was a bigger room, a brighter room. There was a metal table in the middle, what looked like surgical instruments on a tray beside it. Bloody surgical instruments. Two doctors hovered over the table, chattering with each other, so Jongin slightly relaxed. They were probably operating on a patient. Healing a patient. Yeah. But after the doctors stepped back for a moment, dropping knives onto the tray, that’s when Jongin pressed his hands over his mouth to stifle a scream after what he saw. 

A familiar body on the table.

With a gash in the chest.

He was aware the patient could still be alive, but in this circumstance and after everything he’d seen, Jongin did not blame himself for being suspicious. He took several steps away, quickly feeling his back hit the wall behind him. Sehun, who had been checking the rooms several meters away, heard the soft thud and turned, racing towards Jongin after he saw him. 

“What’s wrong?” Sehun asked. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t even shake Jongin off when Jongin’s fingers slid across Sehun’s arm and clutched it. 

 “I…I found him,” Jongin managed to finally say, struggling to squeeze the words out of his throat.

That body on the table could not be Jongdae’s, but after Jongin recognized curled up lips, straight eyebrows, and cheekbones that could kill, there was no other conclusion he could make. 

Sehun’s eyes widened as he grabbed Jongin’s shoulders. 

“Where?” Sehun said, looking at him intently. 

“There,” Jongin said, weakly pointing in front of him, “He…I think that’s him. There was blood.” 

“How many people did you see in there?” Sehun asked, a certain hardness beginning to set on his expression.   

“Two,” Jongin whispered, raising up two fingers for good measure, “Two doctors.” 

“Only two?” Sehun said, “That’s too easy.”

Jongin watched as Sehun’s jaw clench, something dark flicker on his face, but knew there was nothing he could do to stop him. Not in this moment. Not when Jongdae was concerned.

Without saying anything more, Sehun turned, grabbed his gun, and wrenched the door open. Jongin took his time, only catching the door as it was about to swing shut. He kept the door open, averting his gaze as he heard the shots. After swallowing, Jongin kept the door open and stared inside. 

Not much to see, really. 

Sehun worked with ruthless proficiency, and if Jongin had been brave enough to watch, he’d know there were exactly two bullets in each doctor’s chest. After seeing the bodies on the floor, Jongin slowly walked inside the room, letting the door shut behind him. 

But Sehun wasn’t done.

Sehun emptied the rest of his bullets into the doctors' bodies, and though his back was turned, Jongin didn’t need to look at him to know there was nothing but a deep scowl across his face. The intent of vengeance fulfilled, the promise of war won. 

After emptying his gun in seconds, Sehun tossed the gun aside and ran towards the table in the middle of the room. He stopped, hands hovering over the body. Jongin took his time approaching, wishing he could look away. But he couldn’t. 

As he approached, he saw a sheet covering Jongdae’s legs. 

A deep cut in the middle of his chest. 

Blood pouring out of the wound, dripping down his body. 

Sehun reached out, hands hovering over Jongdae’s body before he shakily inhaled and shook Jongdae’s shoulders gently.

“Jongdae?” he asked in such a small voice, “… _Jongdae?_ ” 

Jongin followed the trail of wires hooked to Jongdae’s fingers to find a heart monitor beside the table. He stared at the readings and.   

Froze. 

When only a straight, horizontal green line lit up the screen.  


	4. Chapter 4

Jongin stared at the green line before the weight of that grim impossibility snapped him out of his daze, launching him into panic mode. Save a life mode. 

If there was anything left to save. 

“Move,” Jongin said, pushing Sehun out of the way, mentally checking his options, “He has no pulse.” 

Sehun let out a string of fast-paced swears, leaning on the table for support as he shook his head again and again. 

“Are they…organ harvesters?” Sehun said, fingers tearing at his hair, “Did they take his heart? Oh my god…Oh my god _…Jongdae_.” 

Jongin had attended seminars and training sessions about first aid and paramedic services when he was an A.S.S. agent, and all of the instructors warned him not to freeze. But that’s exactly what he did for a moment as he stared at the blood pouring out of Jongdae’s chest. Sehun pacing around the table sounding more and more hysterical as every second passed certainly didn’t help either. 

“We need to stitch him up,” Jongin said at last, bending closer to examine the wound. The sternum seemed intact, so perhaps they hadn’t stolen Jongdae’s heart yet. “to slow down his blood loss.”  

“But there’s no fucking _pulse_ ,” Sehun shouted, violently gesturing in the air. He repeated himself again before pressing hands to his mouth. 

“I don’t know how the blood will react to the electric pulses if we try to use the defibrillator right now,” Jongin admitted, placing fingers on Jongdae’s wrist to check for certain. The monitor had not lied, and Jongin drew his hand back, the coldness of Jongdae’s hand and the absence of a pulse disturbing him. “Can you give him CPR?” 

Sehun nodded and rolled up his sleeves before climbing onto the table, kneeling as he began pumping Jongdae’s chest, not caring that his hands were soon soaked in blood, his cheeks were soon soaked with tears. Jongin threaded a needle as he waited for Sehun to breathe into Jongdae’s mouth, and when it was time, they switched places, Jongin rushing forwards to jab the needle into Jongdae’s skin and begin sewing, stitching him up again. 

They took turns, Jongin sewing when Sehun breathed with Jongdae, Jongin waiting on the side watching the blood continue to pour when Sehun pumped Jongdae’s chest. 

“His heart,” Sehun said after a minute of this, sounding like someone had strangled his throat, “There’s still no _pulse_.” 

He held Jongdae’s hand tightly, blood smearing their skin. Jongin ignored him for now, finishing the last few stitches before he snipped the edges and patted Jongdae’s chest with some gauze he found. 

“Get the defibrillators,” he told Sehun, studying the heart monitor as Sehun ran around the room, throwing open the drawers and cabinets until he returned with a green defibrillator. 

Jongin had never seen this model of a defibrillator in any of the books or manuals he read, but if they looked like defibrillators, then they were defibrillators. There was no time to look for a different type. Without taking the time to breathe, Jongin switched them on, causing a faint humming noise to echo into the room. The paddles began to glow a pulsing green, neon light, which…was hopefully a good sign. 

Jongin set the charge like he’d been taught and held the paddles over Jongdae’s chest before hesitating and looking at Sehun.

“Do it,” Sehun said. His jaw was clenched, and he held onto Jongdae’s hand tightly. 

“But what if I…” Jongin said. 

“ _Do it_ ,” Sehun repeated himself a little louder.  

“I don’t want to kill him on accident,” Jongin said, lowering the paddles as he suddenly thought of everything that could go wrong, “I don’t really know what I’m doing.” 

“If Jongdae trusts you, then I do. So fucking _do it_ ,” Sehun said. Tears had spilled onto his cheeks, but he glared at Jongin with so much intensity that Jongin had to look away. Back at Jongdae’s face. Back at the gash on his chest that hid a still heart. 

The sight of the wound was too much to bear, so Jongin flicked his gaze back up at Jongdae’s face. It was funny how his lips were still curled up like this despite everything, as if he was only pretending in order to trick death itself.

Jongin took a moment to collect himself, all of the sudden hearing Jongdae’s voice echo in his mind. 

_Put your middle fingers up in the air! One for life, one for death, and tell both to fuck off until your last breath._

Jongin took a deep breath, did exactly just that, and then slammed the defibrillators onto Jongdae’s chest. Jongdae’s body shuddered, jerked as the charge pulsed through him. Jongin checked the monitor, feeling his heart sink when there was still only a flat line. 

“Give me a pulse,” Sehun said, bouncing on his toes as he watched the screen, “Please, please, please, please… _please_.” 

Jongin stared at the screen. They couldn’t have been too late. Right? All the doctor had done before was cut open Jongdae’s chest. He wasn’t supposed to die from such a petty, insignificant wound like this.  

Jongin was about to reset the defibrillators and try again before the machine suddenly shut off and refused to turn on again no matter how many times he jabbed the power button. Maybe they only had enough energy for one charge. Pathetic, considering all the tax money used to fund these operations.  

Jongin slowly placed the defibrillators down, at a loss for what to do now because the monitor still insisted there was no pulse. It would’ve been more appropriate for the line to be red because that’s what this all was. A lie. Because Jongdae couldn’t be dead. Someone who was that full of life couldn’t go like this…on a table without the chance to even fight for himself. 

“Stop this,” Sehun hoarsely begged, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed Jongdae’s hand to his cheek, “You promised me, Jongdae…You promised me you wouldn’t die. No matter what.” 

Jongin felt a lump rise in his throat. For all that big talk, Jongdae had died so fast. But was there anything Jongdae could have done? Anything he could’ve done when he had failed to stay conscious? Anything he— 

“ _Fuck_.” 

That single whispered word caused Jongin to snap his neck up and share a look with Sehun before both looked down. Jongin rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, unsure if he was seeing things. 

Because Jongdae’s chest was moving. 

He checked the monitors, and though the line was still flat, he slowly reached out to touch Jongdae’s other hand. 

There was a pulse. 

The monitor had lied.

“He has a pulse,” Jongin announced, “And he’s breathing.” 

Sehun burst into tears again and bent down to bury his head on Jongdae’s shoulder while his shoulders uncontrollably shook. 

“Jongdae?” Jongin said in a small voice, watching as fingers curled around Sehun’s back. The monitor still displayed a flat line, but when did Jongdae ever listen to death anyways? When did Jongdae ever believe in death anyways? 

Jongdae fluttered in and out of consciousness, only managing to hum a _hmm?_  

Jongin gave Sehun and Jongdae their privacy for a moment, turning around to check the door, grateful he found no dark shadows watching them through the window. He kept his back to them as pretended not to hear all the whispered words too private, too personal for anyone but them. 

 _I was so worried._  

 _You were the only thing…that kept me…going._

_I would’ve done anything to get you back._

_I know, baby…And I’d do the same_. 

After hearing Jongdae sound coherent enough to maintain a conversation, Jongin turned around, stunned by what he saw. There Jongdae was, eyes open, stroking the back of Sehun’s head as Sehun pressed his face into Jongdae’s neck. Jongin swore he saw tears in Jongdae’s eyes, but maybe it was only the lights above reflecting in his gaze. 

A few seconds later, Jongdae slightly turned his neck, noticing Jongin’s staring, and raised his eyebrows. 

“You came?” Jongdae softly said. 

Jongin managed a nod, somehow finding a lump in his throat inhibiting his ability to speak properly. 

“Thought you would’ve left me to rot,” Jongdae let out a slight chuckle. 

“Sehun said he’d kill me if I didn’t help him,” Jongin continued to stare, sending Jongdae into a fit of laughter. After he calmed down, Jongdae met his gaze again, opening his mouth in question. 

“What is it?” Jongdae asked, blinking slowly, “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You’re alive,” Jongin said, wondering why his vision was so blurry all of the sudden.  

“You really think…a motherfucking android can kill me?” Jongdae weakly muttered, “That any goddamn agent in your division can put a bullet in my head and send me to the ground? That a piece of paper…a fucking petition could take me away from Sehun? _Please_.” 

“You’re not _dead_ ,” Jongin said. He was finally honest with himself now, admitting these were tears stinging his eyes. 

Jongdae’s expression softened as he watched Jongin approach him, and he smiled. It wasn’t one of those smug, confident smiles that he’d flash on stage when he knew he deserved all the crowd’s screaming, or even one of those little sneaky smiles he’d give androids whenever he’d successfully lied to their faces. But it was one of those smiles that lit up his face whenever he talked about things he was honest about. 

Family. 

Heart. 

Love. 

“Of course not. I’m living right now, motherfucker,” Jongdae said, letting out another laugh. A laugh that was quickly silenced as Jongin picked up Jongdae’s limp hand and tightly held it. Jongin couldn’t see much through his blurry eyes, but he could feel. The blood on their hands. The scars on Jongdae’s fingers. 

Jongdae’s fingers tightening on his own. 

That moment lasted a second before the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. It was a miracle that the androids had only arrived to kill them now. Sehun pulled out another gun from his bag and reloaded it.

“Help him up,” he ordered before rushing towards the door just as dark shapes approached the window. He pressed his back on the wall near the doorframe before shattering the window as he fired shots at the intruder.  As Jongin helped Jongdae up, Sehun continued to trade gunfire with whoever was outside. Whatever was outside. 

For someone who always seemed so strong, Jongdae almost fell down after putting his feet on the ground. Jongin caught him as he wobbled, and Jongdae clutched his arm tighter as he tried to stand up straight. 

“How embarrassing,” Jongdae loudly complained, “I take a knife to the chest, and suddenly I can’t walk?” 

“Let’s go,” Jongin said, urging him onwards. Jongdae shook his head, pressed a finger to his temple, and allowed Jongin to help him towards the door. Sehun ran back towards them after the eliminating their immediate threat. 

“I’ll go first,” Sehun said, “You take Jongdae and lead him from the back. If anything goes wrong, run the opposite way.” 

“Silly,” Jongdae said, reaching out to touch Sehun's cheek. “Don’t you remember I’d run with you anywhere? Never away. Never without you.”

It was legitimately fascinating for Jongin to watch how Sehun’s eyes crinkled up into crescents and how a goofy smile stretched across his cheeks as soon as Jongdae looked at him once or touched him once. 

“This is cute, but if we don’t want to be gunned down here, we should go,” Jongin flatly said. Jongin almost regretted his words for a moment when Sehun snapped his gaze on him and glared, the previous love in his eyes hardening into a silent _how fucking dare you ruin this moment._  

“I said what I said,” Sehun scowled, “At least until Jongdae recovers some of his strength, look after him. You know the consequences of failing.” 

“Don’t be like that, Sehun,” Jongdae whined as Sehun exited the room first. Jongin and Jongdae followed as they cautiously crept through the hallway. Though they were supposed to be quiet, to be covert, Jongdae didn’t care and kept his voice loud. “Jongin’s just trying his best.” 

“He’ll have to do better than best if you’re involved,” Sehun said, holding a hand out to tell them to stop. At the end of the hallway, he edged out of the corner to examine all their possible directions before gesturing them to turn left. 

“I think he’s already doing a fantastic job,” Jongdae winked at Jongin who guessed that Jongdae’s strength was steadily returning if his vocabulary was growing more colorful and his voice louder and brasher. 

“I did okay,” Jongin said. 

Sehun was silent for a moment, taking a moment to shoot a guard across the hall before turning around to look Jongin up and down with an expression that probably meant _okay is fucking exaggeration_. Jongin focused on the back of Sehun’s head as they continued forwards, not wanting to check if the body on the floor was human or android.  

“Nonsense,” Jongdae protested, “You’re here, you brought Sehun, and—” 

“Sehun brought me,” Jongin muttered. He was surprised he wasn’t excessively panicking or struggling to breathe since he knew it was only a matter of time before more androids approached. But really, talking to Jongdae helped him calm down. “He said he’d kill me if I didn’t help bring you back.” 

Jongdae clucked his tongue. 

“Sehun, please don’t scare my brother,” Jongdae said, “he’s got a soft heart.” 

 _Brother_. 

“That motherfucker has a soft heart?” Sehun said, turning around to project his laugh straight at Jongin, “Try weak. He wouldn’t kill anyone.” 

Just as he said that, he shot an incoming android in the head and heart, sending them falling down. Jongin began to recognize these halls, sure that they’d reach the elevator soon.  

“I think that’s admirable,” Jongdae said, tousling Jongin’s hair. Jongin didn’t shy away and let Jongdae drag his fingers through his hair. Maybe this was what brothers did. “He made it all the way here without having to resort to doing what we do? Wow.” 

“Because I carried him all the way here. My back’s still aching,” Sehun snorted. He stayed quiet before he admitted in a softer voice. “But I really couldn’t have found you without his help. He used all his codes and credentials to check the system and locked rooms to find you.”  

Jongdae put Jongin into a headlock with one arm and rubbed his hair with another hand. 

“Thank you, Jongin,” Jongdae grinned. Jongin complained and fixed his hair when Jongdae finally let him go.

“It’s strange though,” Jongin said, beginning to relax after no one had attacked them in a while. “I thought I had high clearance, but I’ve never heard of this department before. Termination? I only know of detainment and extermination. 

“I don’t know much either,” Jongdae said, falling silent, “When they took me, they—” 

Before he could say anything more, the sound of gunshots caused them to drop to the ground, throwing their hands over heads. Androids and agents were supposed to have good aim, so Jongin was glad that whoever these people were had such a shitty shot. 

“ _Go_ ,” Sehun shouted, firing shots behind them from where he lay on the floor, “I’ve got this.” 

Jongin pulled Jongdae to his feet, looking back to find two androids fall to the floor, oil leaking out of their body. Really, if Joohyun hadn’t designed bullets that could penetrate the mechanisms of any android, he was sure they'd all be dead. 

“Not without you,” Jongdae stubbornly said, dragging Sehun upwards before they continued to move as fast as they could. Jongin could see the elevator down the hallway, spurred onwards as the sound of mechanical voices echoed behind him. 

“Intruder alert.” 

“Kill sequence activated.”

“Orders are to exterminate on sight and—” 

The last android couldn’t finish their sentence before they fell to the floor, deactivated by a single shot. Sehun fell behind, forced to slow down as he reloaded his guns. 

“Give me one. I want to help,” Jongdae stretched out his hand urgently as he stopped in his tracks and waited for Sehun to catch up. Jongin bounced on his toes nervously, hearing the distant sound of boots thudding through the hallway like thunder. 

Not wanting to see who was coming, Jongin hurried ahead to the elevator, jamming the up arrow as fast as he could. Like the other elevators, this one opened instantly, and after stepping inside, Jongin held the door open. When no one followed, he checked the hallway and searched for a camera to pointedly look into after finding Sehun and Jongdae bickering. Apparently he was the only one concerned with dying. 

“You need to recover from what you’ve been through,” Sehun said, dangling a gun above Jongdae’s head. Jongdae pouted, jutted his bottom lip out, and jumped up and down to try and snatch it from Sehun’s hand.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Jongdae loudly protested, “Really. Truly.” 

“Don’t exert yourself too much,” Sehun stuck his tongue out as he held the gun higher, “We literally just stitched you up and jolted your heart back to life.” 

“Come _on_ ,” Jongdae whined, “I’m sure there’s a whole army scattered throughout this place waiting to take us down. So let me help. If we’re fighting together, we’ll be out of here in three seconds.” 

Sehun paused, staring at Jongdae as he fell silent. Jongin saw a solitary figure turn the corner and approach them, but as he pointed a finger and screamed, Sehun raised his other gun without looking away from Jongdae and fired. As the body fell to the floor without even a glance or acknowledgement from Sehun, Jongin wondered why did he have to be so… _cool_.

Jongdae took that moment to stand on his tip toes and kiss Sehun’s cheek, which was enough for Sehun to start giggling and hiding his mouth behind the back of his hand. This time, Jongdae successfully snatched the gun away before pressing another kiss to Sehun’s cheek. 

“Okay,” Sehun conceded, unable to suppress the wide grin that had bloomed across his face, “You and me…Nothing can get in our way.” 

Jongdae beamed and held Sehun’s hand, almost _skipping_ as they finally stepped into the elevator. Jongin tried pressing the up button before realized he’d left the system on lockdown. Kneeling on the floor, he lifted the panel in the wall away and paused before he could fix the system. 

“Once I fix this, it’ll send us back up there, where that whole army of androids is waiting,” Jongin said, “Can you handle that? If you can’t, give me five minutes and let me study the plans to see if there’s an alternative escape route.” 

He didn’t feel like dying today. Or any day, really, if he were honest.

Jongdae and Sehun exchanged a look before they burst out laughing. Jongin let out a long sigh as Jongdae clapped and Sehun threw his hands over his mouth to stifle his laughter. 

“Are you actually serious?” Sehun said between laughs. 

“Why do I even try,” Jongin muttered. After a minute, he managed to reverse the lockdown, causing the elevator to hum and the green lights to flicker back on. Jongdae pressed the up arrow without warning, causing the elevator to accelerate upwards, the abrupt momentum causing Jongin to stumble as he tried to stand again. Jongin gripped the railing on the elevator walls and felt his heart race faster than the elevator when he remembered who was waiting for them above. 

“We can handle it,” Jongdae said, opening his arms and facing Sehun who mirrored the gesture. Jongdae flew into his arms, pressing his head on the crook of Sehun’s neck. Sehun held him tightly, closed his eyes, and rested his head on top of Jongdae’s. 

“What are you _doing_?” Jongin asked as he stared, “There’s no time for this? The doors are going to open any second, and we’ll be shot if you keep standing there doing…that.”

Both of them ignored Jongin and continued to stay still while they held each other, breathing at the same time. Whenever Jongdae inhaled, Sehun inhaled. Whenever Sehun exhaled, Jongdae exhaled. 

“We’re syncing our hearts,” Jongdae murmured, eyes still closed, “It’s what we do before we fight together.” 

Sehun’s hands moved, one pulling Jongdae’s waist closer to him, the other cradling the back of Jongdae’s head. Jongin fell silent, any last protests dying as he watched and breathed with them, too.  

Finally, they stepped apart, the blood on Jongdae’s chest staining Sehun’s chest, the love Jongin saw in front of him staining his own heart. 

“Cover us from the back,” Sehun told Jongin, “We’ll go first.”

“There won’t be much to cover by the time we’re done. Don’t worry,” Jongdae winked.

Then both of them separated, Jongdae taking the right side of the elevator, Sehun taking the left. Jongin stood behind Jongdae, wondering how he hadn’t passed out from the stress. There was no way having a heart that beat this fast and felt this much was healthy. After a few seconds, the lights of the elevator switched to red, signaling they had entered detainment. 

Jongdae started humming the bass intro of a song Jongin recognized, and needing something to desperately anchor himself to, grabbed onto that melody and imagined the rest of the music. The heavy bassline Jongdae hummed was the intro, the pause before verses. The opening crash of the guitar was replaced by the _ding_ of the elevator doors sliding open _._ The hailstorm of bullets that immediately pierced the elevator wall behind them substituted for the thump of the bass drums and rapid rhythm. Jongdae covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as he started humming louder, pretending that they were at a concert, they were only at a concert. 

The assault of bullets paused for a second, the androids tricked into believing that there was no one there, no assassins in need of extermination here. 

That second was all Jongdae and Sehun needed to burst out of the elevator with their guns blaring. 

Jongin could only peek out of the elevator, mesmerized by the way Jongdae and Sehun fought together. They instinctively knew when to duck, when to change places, and from the distance, Jongin could’ve sworn he was watching a duet, an intricate performance between two partners who’d clearly danced together for a long time. When Sehun leaned over, Jongdae rolled over his back to send shots in the air for no logical reason Jongin could think of other than to look cool.  Jongin wasn’t sure if Jongdae was still humming, or if that was his mind filling the silence with song, changing the bullets into beats.

After a few minutes, the song finished with a final shot, and the fight finished with the last body falling to the floor. Jongin waited a moment more before leaving the safety of the elevator to find at least thirty androids crumpled and leaking oil all over the floor. No wonder Jongdae and Sehun had never been caught. A.S.S. agents in charge of hunting them always waited to strike when they were apart because separately, they could take care of themselves, but together? Not even death could touch them. 

“Let’s go,” Sehun said, robbing the android’s bodies as he plucked up spare bullets and guns and stowed them in his bag. 

Jongdae leaned against the wall, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead.  

“Let’s go,” Jongin said in a quieter voice, pulling at Jongdae’s sleeve. As Jongdae noticed Jongin, the exhaustion melted off of his face, replaced by a bright smile. Jongin winced as he stared at Jongdae’s chest, watching the blood stain on his shirt grow bigger and bigger. Maybe he should have made the stitches tighter. Or maybe Jongdae should have just rested instead of throwing himself into the fight so soon.

Jongdae swung his arm around Jongin’s shoulder, and Jongin let the weight of his brother push him forwards instead of dragging him down. They let Sehun take care of any other enemies that approached, but after entering the middle of detainment, there were no guards, no androids. Only the detained civilians. None of them could say anything as they walked past the cells, listening to the desperate screaming, the hopeless crying. Jongin tried his best to keep his gaze forwards, but the temptation to look was to strong. He regretted peering into a cell after finding someone who looked no older than he was. 

They reached the elevator without any further confrontation, progressed through a few administration levels without any further blood loss, but after a particularly nasty fight between Sehun and three human agents that caused the alarms to sound again, they had…a problem.  

“I’m out of bullets,” Sehun said after rummaging around his bag. 

“You know what to do,” Jongdae said, hobbling over to the nearest bench before sitting down.  Sehun shrugged, took a seat beside him, and pulled out his yarn before literally…knitting. _Knitting._ Jongin wanted to scream because what were they _doing_ sitting _here_ like _that_. 

“What the—” Jongin wanted to ask. 

“Don’t,” Sehun said, meticulously clicking his needles together. If he continued at this rate, he’d finish the scarf in about ten minutes. “I know what I’m doing.” 

Jongin lowered his face into his hands and sank down next to Jongdae, pretending that he was at home.  They were all sitting in his apartment, sprawled around the couch like it was any lazy Sunday morning. Jongdae was humming a song like nothing was wrong, and Sehun was knitting like nothing. Was. Wrong.  

Jongin pressed his hands tighter against his face once he heard that familiar mechanical thumping against the floor. God. An android. And they were just sitting here like _this._

“Hello,” the android said, “What are you doing here?” 

“Business,” Sehun easily answered, seemingly unbothered by the fact he was unarmed and right next to an android who could snap his neck with a finger.

“What type of business?” the android said after a slight pause. 

“A meeting with administration,” Sehun said. 

“I see,” the android responded, “Thank you for your truth. Now I must inquire. Why is that human beside you bleeding?” 

Jongin opened his eyes a crack and saw two android feet shuffle closer to them before stopping in front of Jongdae. He opened his eyes, lifted his hands from his face to find the android pointing at Jongdae. 

“My scanners indicate a poor attempt at stitches, most of which have broken. Blood pouring out of the chest. Tr—” the android said before Sehun cut him off. 

“It was your fault,” Sehun said. The clicking of his needles finally stopped. 

“You are telling the truth, but none of my stored memory suggests any logic to that statement. I do not understand,” the android said, turning to face Sehun. Once again, Jongin was surprised he hadn’t collapsed from the emotional exertion it took to survive this chaotic mess. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Jongin faintly said. 

Jongdae shushed him with a whisper and patted his back. That didn’t help much, but Jongin tried to calm down by reminding himself that there were three of them and only one android. And even if he was particularly useless in gun fights, he would do anything to survive.  

“I said,” Sehun repeated, “This was all your fucking fault, and if you motherfuckers hadn’t dared to even look at my goddamn husband, none of this would have happened.” 

“I don’t understand,” the android continued to say, struggling to process what Sehun was saying, “What has happened?”

“This,” Sehun said, and before Jongin could blink, he slid his knitting needles out of the yarn and leapt up, looking like a blur as he stabbed the android. One needle to the heart. One needle through the head. The android’s eyes fluttered, its circuits crackling, and as Sehun pulled the needles out, the android crumpled to the floor with a thud.

“My hero,” Jongdae beamed at Sehun. There had been a deep scowl across Sehun’s face, but it’d quickly disappeared after he looked at Jongdae. Jongin swallowed as he eyed the needles clenched in Sehun’s fists, glad he had never provoked Sehun to a breaking point while he was knitting. 

“Anything for you,” Sehun nodded, “But it really is their fault. They had this coming.” 

“Let’s go before they come back,” Jongin said, watching Sehun steal the android’s guns and spare bullets before stuffing the needles and scarf back into his bag.  

The sirens still screeched around the area, flooding the space with red lights. Jongin wondered exactly how awful their security was if it was taking this long for the androids to even find them. Perhaps most of the androids had been stationed outside the building, trained to eliminate threats before they could enter the premises unauthorized. If this was all the Director offered in opposition, they could easily escape in the next ten minutes. 

Jongin wished he hadn’t just jinxed them because as they were two hallways away from reaching the back exit of the ground floor, an android jumped out of nowhere from the ceiling and targeted Jongdae. One punch sent him stumbling back, causing Sehun to shout and engage the android. Jongdae’s face was twisted in pain, and he stayed on the ground for a few seconds clutching his chest before using Jongin’s outstretched hand to pull himself up again.  

“What are you doing?” Jongin asked when Jongdae stumbled towards the fighting. 

“Helping,” Jongdae said, his voice sounding faint. Blood dripped on the floor as he hurried towards Sehun. 

Jongin didn’t know how Jongdae could stand, let alone run or even try fighting. Before, Jongdae and Sehun had worked flawlessly and effortlessly together, but now, Jongdae was a liability. Sehun worked twice as hard to prevent Jongdae from suffering another blow, taking punches in Jongdae’s place, attacking without conserving any energy. 

It didn’t help that the android could fight well, too. Unlike the clunky security guard androids, this one moved quickly, with more agility than Jongin thought a robot was capable of having. This android was perhaps one of the few the Director preferring using as personal guards, and that could only mean that if this android was here, the Director was close nearby.  

“Jongin,” Sehun shouted as he blocked a punch from the android, only narrowly missing a second jab to his throat, “Can you please stop standing there and fucking _do_ something? A little help would be nice. Or at least take Jongdae and go.” 

Right. Fight the scary robot. Try not to act like dead weight. 

“Can I pull their head off?” Jongin asked, running towards them, “Does that even work? Am I strong enough?” 

“Something is better than nothing, Jongin,” Sehun bellowed.

Without further hesitation, Jongin leapt onto the android’s back, grabbed their head, and pulled. He stumbled backwards after something popped off, but after checking what he held in his hands, it was only a helmet. 

Jongin looked up from the floor, not understanding why Sehun and Jongdae suddenly froze, unable to do anything but stared at the android with wide eyes and dodge the constant attacks. 

“Oh my god,” Jongdae said, clutching at his heart and narrowly missing another punch to the chest.  

Sehun stepped in front of Jongdae, holding out an arm to endure the attacks in Jongdae’s place. There was no longer any intent to attack and fight, as whatever they’d seen had shocked him. Jongin realized this was his cue to do something and scrambled to his feet, jumping on top of the android’s back once again. The android twisted themselves out of Jongin’s grasp and turned around to fight. But when Jongin saw the cropped bangs, the eyes that were once full of life but now hollow, he, too, froze. 

“ _Seulgi_?” Jongin said, stepping aside just in time to avoid getting socked in the jaw. 

“She’s alive?” Jongin loudly asked, looking back at Jongdae and Sehun to confirm he wasn’t the only one seeing this. Seeing her. Jongdae and Sehun, for once, only watched with their hands over their mouths as Seulgi continued to attack Jongin. It took all of Jongin’s desire to live and his A.S.S. training to not choke on the spot.  

“Hey,” Jongin shouted, “If she isn’t dead, then Yixing didn’t kill her after all.”

Encouraged by this epiphany, he fought Seulgi like this was only a training session, like a sparring match in A.S.S. headquarters. There was no need to kill, and what Jongin lacked in gun fights, he easily made up for in hand to hand combat. After a move that he would dismiss as lucky, Jongin managed to knock Seulgi over. 

“What do I do now?” Jongin asked, kicking her to the ground as she started to crawl back up. He was forced to kick her again, wincing as she reeled backwards. “Sorry. So sorry…I hope that didn’t hurt?”  

“Knock her out but don’t kill her,” Jongdae responded, his voice sounding closer.

“Don’t worry. He’s not capable of killing anyone,” Sehun said. Jongin risked his life to look around and send Sehun a look, one that he hoped conveyed the magnitude of _and what’s wrong with that?_ The earlier shock had worn off from Jongdae’s and Sehun’s expressions, but they still approached cautiously. 

The second Jongin took to look back was enough for Seulgi to grab his leg and wrestle him to the floor. After a well-placed punch, Jongin managed to knock her out, pushing on the side before leaping up with a laugh. 

“She’s alive!” Jongin announced again, “Should we bring her back with us?” 

“Yes, we have to,” Jongdae said as they crowded over her body, “Joohyun will be so happy.” 

“Okay,” Jongin said, “Sehun, you take care of Jongdae. I’ll take care of Seulgi to make up for…” 

He trailed off, but everyone knew. They knew. Jongin carefully rolled Seulgi over and carried her on his back. Her weight dragged him down, making every step harder and harder. But Jongin gritted his teeth endured.

“If you could fight like that, then why didn’t you do that sooner?” Sehun asked, glancing at Jongin as they continued towards the exit. They were a single hallway away now. 

“Because you kept giving me guns and telling me stuff like _kill or be killed._ I can’t do that,” Jongin said, pausing to take a quick break. He shouldn’t have stopped going to the gym after they transferred him out of A.S.S.  

“Then you should’ve told me you were a good fighter, and I would’ve brought you knuckle rings instead,” Sehun said, “All this time there I was thinking you were a weak boy with a soft heart on the verge of dying every two seconds.” 

“And now I’m not?” Jongin said, ducking as he saw Sehun raise his hand to shoot an incoming guard, sending them toppling down with three well placed shots. 

“Now you’re just a soft boy with a weak heart on the verge of dying every three seconds,” Sehun said, looking both ways for any other threats before continuing onwards.  

“I’ll take it,” Jongin said, in considerably high spirits. As they continued towards the back exit, Jongin wondered what they had done to Seulgi. She didn’t fight like an android, didn’t act like an android, as she hadn’t even asked a question before attacking. Maybe she was only brainwashed, conditioned into forgetting she was human and remembering nothing but the orders she was told. 

This was what Jongin’s mind was occupied with before things, as Sehun would say, went to fucking shit.

 

ALL GUARDS REPORT

INTRUDER ALERT

COMMAND SEQUENCE: KILL ACTIVATION 0098482

 

All of a sudden, the felt Seulgi stirring behind him, but before he could drop her faster than Yixing dropped him three months ago, it was too late. Hands snaked around his throat and began strangling him. Jongin let out a choked gasp, clawing at Seulgi’s hands as he struggled to breathe. After Seulgi pulled him downwards and pinned him to the floor with a knee, Jongdae and Sehun finally turned around after hearing him yell. 

Without a word, Jongdae, bleeding heart and all, launched himself at Seulgi and distracted her long enough for Jongin to roll over, gasping for breath. From where he lay, he saw feet walk towards him, and as a shadow loomed above, Jongin looked up to find Sehun staring down at him, shaking his head. 

“I take it back. You’re still weak,” Sehun said, but there was no bite to his words. After helping Jongin up, he intervened, helping Jongdae fight Seulgi. Now that the shock of seeing her had disappeared, they subdued her, each grabbing one of her arms, holding on tightly as she thrashed around.  

“Do you know any command sequences?” Jongdae shouted, tilting his head away from her as she attempted to claw at his face. 

“No, I didn’t work in the android department,” Jongin said as he trudged back towards them, winded from the fight. 

“Right. You only worked in the department created to destroy people like us,” Sehun said. 

“Monsters like you,” echoed a smooth voice behind them. Jongin snapped his neck back once he heard the sound of the voice. 

“ _Yixing_?” Jongin said.  

There Yixing was, looking as infuriatingly good as he always did, wearing a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up his arms. Behind him stood too many androids for Jongin to count, all waiting for the order to kill.  

“Jongin,” Yixing said, sounding like he wanted to say more, though was careful to restrain himself. “You shouldn’t be here. Why are you helping them?” 

His expression fell as he dragged his gaze from Jongin to Jongdae and Sehun.  

“Wait…Don’t tell me. If the Director asks me about you, he’ll know if I’m lying. Please…don’t tell me anything that can put you in danger,” Yixing pleaded, shaking his head, “Just walk here where you’ll be safe, make them hand over the flash drive they stole, and let me arrest them.” 

“…What flash drive?” Jongin asked. They hadn’t stolen Jongdae’s new flash drive this time. 

“The Director’s personal flash drive you stole?” Yixing frowned, “The one that contained all the back…”

He trailed off after realizing Jongin didn’t have clearance to know this. 

“Oh,” Jongin remembered, digging into his pockets before pulling out a flash drive, one whose label read AND_BACKUP_LOGS. “This?” 

“Yes,” Yixing exhaled, reaching out his hand, “The Director would’ve stopped at nothing to take it back, but he won’t have to order his androids to kill you now if you give it to me.” 

Jongin stared at the flash drive, having no idea what was so important about some backup logs. He then closed his fingers around the flash drive and shoved it in his pocket.

“Yixing,” Jongin said instead, wanting to discuss something more important, “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t actually kill Seulgi?”

He pointed at Seulgi who had stood up straight after seeing Yixing before twisting herself out of Jongdae’s and Sehun’s grasp. Mechanically, she walked beside Yixing and stood by his side.   

“Because you’d know too much,” Yixing said, “Your clearance doesn’t require you to know any more than what you’ve learned in A.S.S. and D.O.U.C.H.E. And the less you know, the safer it is for you. That’s how it works.” 

“You made me believe you killed someone,” Jongin said, pausing to breathe, “That you killed someone for me. You never lied to me, but you never told me the truth either. I think that’s worse than whatever’s going on.” 

But then again, they’d never talked about what had happened after Jongin woke up, after Yixing left, so there was never a chance for Yixing to lie or not. 

“Sometimes the lie is better than the truth,” Yixing shrugged, “If you thought that I killed her, then maybe it would finally drive you away for your own good.” 

“Then why can’t you understand us?” Jongdae found the energy to yell, all but dangling from Sehun’s arm. If they didn’t escape soon, Jongdae would bleed out here. 

“Because you’re killers,” Yixing said without looking at Jongdae, “the law says that if you want someone gone, file a petition and wait.” 

“I did that,” Jongdae snapped, “I did that, and you know what they told me? Come back in a year to see if my petition had been approved or not. And you know what happened in that year? My mom was murdered by the man these petitions couldn’t stop.” 

Yixing paused to consider his words, finally looking at Jongdae with something that was neither contempt nor pity.

“I’m sorry the system has not worked in your favor, but we are doing whatever we can to improve it,” Yixing said, sounding like he was reading straight out of the customer service training manual for D.O.U.C.H.E. phone operators. “But you must know that the point of the waiting period is to give the petitioner enough time to reflect and make sure that they really want someone dead. That it’s not too late to withdraw their petition and realize they’re better than that.” 

“You fucking fools need to finally realize that the system is literally why we’re here, why we’re like this,” Sehun said. He had an arm around Jongdae’s waist, hand gripping Jongdae’s hip tightly. If Yixing knew what was good for him, he’d study the way Sehun’s expression had twisted and realize it would not be a good idea to even look at or breathe near Jongdae.  

“Yixing,” Jongin said in a gentler voice that made Yixing turn his attention back to him again, “Just let us go. It’s easier for all of us that way, and no one would have to die.” 

“Us?” Yixing asked, his expression crumbling, “Why are you following them? Agreeing with them? I can’t pretend I haven’t seen you if he asks.” 

“I’m following my heart,” Jongin said, “If the Director asks what I was doing here with them, tell him exactly that. I followed my heart.”

If he could manage to look at anyone but Yixing right now, he’d see the smile breaking free on Jongdae’s face.

“That’s not a good idea,” Yixing said before repeating what he always told him, “Head over heart, Jongin. That’s what keeps you safe. Alive.”

“My heart led me to you once, so I don’t have a problem with listening to it,” Jongin said, gripping his gun tighter. He wasn’t willing to let the situation spiral into a fight, and as he glanced beside him, he realized Jongdae and Sehun weren’t willing either. 

Yixing’s eyebrows knitted upwards, but he never had the chance to speak as Jongdae reached into Sehun’s bag and threw something into the air. Jongin, who was well acquainted with the contents of that bag, knew exactly what that was and sprinted in the opposite direction before it could hit the ground. As smoke and light exploded in the air, Jongin felt a hand on his arm before trailing down his hand. Fingers curled around his, and Jongin held on tightly as he ran without looking back.

After finally reaching the emergency exit, Jongin typed his personal code and held the door open as Sehun helped Jongdae out.

It was night when they finally burst out of the building, blinking up at the street lights before rushing off. The full moon hung in the skies above them, dimly illuminating the streets and the path forwards. After crossing the street, they hid behind a tree, pausing to catch their breaths. Jongin dared to peek out from the trunk and saw androids streaming out of the building, their red eyes looking like crimson stars in the distance. 

Once androids no longer swarmed out of the building, Sehun stood by the edge of the pavement, waiting for something. Jongin didn’t question his behavior now, too busy trying to keep Jongdae upright. Jongdae was humming melodies that changed every other second, and his eyelids fluttered as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Jongin didn’t know how he’d managed to still stay conscious.

Eventually, a car cruised towards them, and recklessly, Sehun pulled out his gun and stepped into the light. The driver honked, slowing down just in time before he could run Sehun over. Wasting no time at all, Sehun swiftly grabbed onto the front door of the car and wrenched it open. 

“What do you think you’re doing at this hour?” the driver asked, his face visibly red even under this dim light. “I’ll file a petition against you right this second. What’s your fucking name? How fucking dare you?” 

“Look at this,” Sehun said, thrusting his bracelet at the driver’s face, “I will kill you right here and right now if you don’t let me borrow your car.”

The driver waited for a red light that would not come, dragging his gaze from the green light to Sehun’s face before quickly unbuckling his seatbelt and shooting out of the car with a scream. Once the driver was far away enough, Sehun hopped into the driver’s seat and gestured for them to come. 

“Sorry,” Jongin shouted at the driver’s retreating back as he helped Jongdae into the passenger’s seat. As soon as he slammed the door shut, Sehun drove wildly, swerving in and out of the lanes. At this time of the night, there weren’t many civilians around the area, cars on the streets, so Sehun had almost free reign of the road.

“What a pity we already shipped our motorcycles to our retirement home,” Jongdae said, slumping downwards, resting his head in Jongin’s lap. His eyes seemed unfocused, staring up at nothing. “I’d prefer riding that and feeling the wind in my hair instead of sitting in this ugly car.” 

“You already moved everything?” Jongin asked. 

“Yes,” Jongdae nodded, “We were all ready to move to our new house, and this was supposed to be the last thing before we disappeared.” 

“But then you ruined everything,” Sehun said, glaring at Jongin through the rearview mirror as he sped straight through three red lights in three seconds.

“Sehun,” Jongdae lightly chided as Jongin gripped the car door for support, “He still helped us...right?” 

Sehun glowered half-heartedly through the mirror one last time before he continued focusing on the road and mumbled out an _I guess._ Jongin smugly smiled before he looked down in his lap and gasped, finding Jongdae’s condition had worsened in seconds. Jongdae’s eyes had finally closed, and his arm hung limply off the side of the seats. 

“Jongdae?” Jongin softly said, touching his shoulder, finding his skin cold and clammy.

“What’s wrong?” Sehun said, narrowly missing a street light as he jerked the wheel to the right. 

“… _Jongdae?”_ Jongin tried again, pressing fingers to Jongdae’s throat. There was still a pulse, a weak one, but a pulse nevertheless. 

Jongdae hummed in response, and though his eyebrows raised at the sound of Jongin’s voice, his eyes remained closed. 

“Hang on,” Sehun begged, slamming his foot down on the accelerator to make a yellow light meters and meters away.  

“You can’t,” Jongin said, tapping Jongdae’s cheek lightly, forcing him to stay conscious, “Don’t do this. Stay awake for Sehun. Stay awake for me.” 

Jongdae’s eyes remained closed, and from here, he looked so still. So…dead. 

“Scared,” Jongdae mumbled, weakly fumbling for Jongin’s hand, “So scared.” 

“Jongdae, you _can’t_ ,” Jongin tightly held Jongdae’s hand as he tried his best not to speak loudly and alert Sehun of the situation behind him. He knew if Sehun could see this, he’d crash the car in a second. “You can’t be scared now…We’re almost at the safe house, and you’re going to make it. You’re going to survive because that’s what you always do.” 

“This can’t be the end,” Jongdae shakily said. As they drove under a street lamp, the light illuminated the tear that had slid down Jongdae’s cheeks.

“ _No_ …” Jongin whispered, smoothing Jongdae’s bangs away from his eyes before continuing to tap Jongdae’s cheek, “It’s not. It isn’t. What’s blood loss to someone like you? What’s a few scrapes and bullet holes?” 

“But I’m so tired…” Jongdae murmured, “I’m not ready to sleep yet. There were so many things I wanted to do.”

“Then stay awake,” Jongin commanded, his tone causing Sehun to check the rearview mirror in confusion. Jongin gestured for him to focus on driving before turning his attention back to Jongdae. “You’re Kim Jongdae. Death is scared of even touching you, so I promise this isn’t the end. You’ll survive this, and after you feel better, you’re moving to your new house, remember? You’re beginning a new life with Sehun, remember? You’re going to start a new family and adopt a kid, remember?”

He would not allow himself to break, not when Jongdae was halfway there, halfway to thinking dangerous thoughts. It was Jongdae himself that once told Jongin that immortals became mortal the second they thought or even considered their own death. That brief _what if_ , that scared _these are my last seconds_ , and that panicked _I’m going to die_ were the true killers. 

“Family,” Jongdae mumbled as he nodded, “I’ll do it for love. You’re my family. Sehun’s the love of my life and you’re my brother. Light of my life.”  

Jongin fell speechless as Jongdae continued whispering words he could no longer hear. All he could do now was hold Jongdae’s hand and fight to keep him conscious. It was odd, seeing Jongdae fall like this, almost broken like this. It was even odder, realizing they shared the same blood. 

Luckily, after minutes of frantic driving and weaving in and out of the streets, Sehun slammed on the breaks, parking in an alleyway. It’d be too risky to drive straight to the safe house, so they had no choice but to hurry back on foot. 

Sehun wrenched open the passenger door, about to lift Jongdae out of the seat, but Jongdae stubbornly waved Sehun’s hands away. 

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” Jongdae said, pressing fingers to his temple as he tried stepping out of the car.  As soon as his feet touched the ground, his legs crumpled, and he would have fallen had it not been for Sehun who had been waiting to catch him.  

“Hold on. I’ve got you,” Sehun said, scooping Jongdae up in his arms. Jongdae murmured some protests, but nonetheless tilted his head and pressed his face into Sehun’s chest. His hands balled up into little fists as he clung to Sehun’s shirt.

“Grab my bag and keep up,” Sehun ordered Jongin who nodded, throwing the backpack over his shoulder before running after Sehun. 

The people who were awake at this hour didn’t ask, didn’t even blink when they saw the three of them rush past them. This was a shady area, a shady district after all, and they knew better than to ask questions about things they would not be able to lie about later. Sehun ran surprisingly fast for someone carrying the weight of another person, and Jongin struggled to keep up, panting as he cursed the weight of the guns and whatever else Sehun had crammed in his bag. 

Eventually they reached a familiar street, the safehouse a few houses down. As they ran up the driveway, the door opened. 

“What happened?” Joohyun shouted as she ran towards them, “Your comms lost signal, and I was so worried.” 

Then she gasped, pointing at Jongdae, her hand limply falling to her side when she noticed the blood. 

“We found him, but we had to fight our way out,” Sehun said as he carried Jongdae inside and laid him down on one of the tables. He ripped Jongdae’s shirt, exposing the deep gash that Jongin’s original stitches could not contain. “Where are the medical supplies?” 

“I’ve got them,” Joohyun said, running to the corner of the room, standing on her tip toes to reach the first aid kit. 

Second later, she returned with the kit, placed it on the table, and unzipped it. 

“I’ve got this,” Jongin said, pulling some gauze out and wiping the blood from Jongdae’s chest. He ordered Sehun to continue doing so as he pulled out the fragments of thread out of Jongdae’s chest with a tweezer. 

“Do we have any local anesthetics to give him?” Jongin asked as he threaded a new needle. 

“No time for that,” Jongdae managed to weakly say, “Just go. I’ve had worse.” 

Jongin hesitated as he faced the open wound that split Jongdae’s chest apart. He had no problems sewing Jongdae up while he was unconscious, but he couldn’t imagine how much it would hurt now. How much it had been hurting until now. But after Jongdae gave him a single nod, Jongin gritted his teeth and plunged the needle into Jongdae’s skin as he began stitching him up. Joohyun stood beside him, occasionally wiping the blood off of Jongdae’s chest with gauze. 

“You’re doing great,” Sehun murmured. If Jongin wasn’t trying to force his hand not to shake, he would’ve looked up and seen Sehun holding the side of Jongdae’s face, his thumb gently stroking Jongdae’s skin. Jongdae reached out to touch Sehun’s hand, leaning into Sehun’s touch while his lips curled up. 

“They didn’t snatch my heart,” Jongdae softly said, sharply inhaling after Jongin accidentally tugged the thread too hard, “It’s still yours. But I’ll have a scar.” 

“Just like mine,” Sehun nodded.  

“I’ll get the same tattoo you have when my skin heals enough. You know…the geometric heart you have across your chest,” Jongdae said.

“Done,” Jongin announced, exhaling loudly as he snipped the rest of the thread. He dropped the needle onto the tray Joohyun offered him and breathed. His stitching would never win him awards at some embroidery contest, but Jongdae was…alive at least. He’d lost a lot of blood, but was still alive. 

Jongdae and Sehun didn’t respond, continuing to gaze at each other tenderly, in such a way that made Jongin’s heart swell. There were no lies between them, nothing at all but the purest trust, and Jongin wanted to know what a love like that must feel like.  

“He needs a blood transfusion,” Joohyun finally spoke, seeming much calmer now that Jongdae seemed more alert and almost fine. It was incredible, what one touch, one look, one kiss from Sehun could do for Jongdae. 

“I have O type blood,” Jongin said, quickly lifting up his sleeve, “He can have some of mine.” 

Joohyun stared, unimpressed. 

“You think that we wouldn’t have extra blood laying around for times like this?” she said, “I’m getting him some of his own type. Don’t accidentally bleed out if you still want to cut the wrong vein for him.” 

She gave him a final, lingering look before hurrying to fetch blood for Jongdae. 

“You were going to give me your blood?” Jongdae asked. Jongin looked away, realizing what he had said, and blamed his actions on the panic of the moment. He just didn’t want anyone to die, Jongdae included. That was all. 

“Look at that. You do care,” Jongdae said, somehow finding the energy to grin, “That’s so sweet.” 

Joohyun soon returned, wheeling in a metal rack that she parked beside the table. After hanging a large pack of blood on the rack, she carefully lifted Jongdae’s arm and began the transfusion. 

“I’ll take him up to the rooms so he can rest now,” Sehun said. 

“I’ll help with that metal…thing,” Jongin said, grabbing the pole for support, not wanting to be let alone with Joohyun. 

“Follow me,” Sehun nodded.

Jongdae spread out his arms, sighing as Sehun gathered him in his arms. As Sehun carried Jongdae through the safehouse, he whispered that it would be fine, everything would be fine. He was here, and they were so close to finishing this chapter of their lives. Jongin was sure that all of these words were not meant for him to hear, and he drew back as far as he could to give them their space. 

Once they entered a spare bedroom, Sehun gently placed Jongdae on the bed, carefully tucking him into the blankets. 

He was about to stand up straight before Jongdae pulled him down by his collar and whispered something in his ear.

“You’re such a baby,” Sehun laughed, sitting on the bed, “You’d think that I’m the older one sometimes.” 

“Your baby,” Jongdae mumbled. Whatever he had said had caused Sehun to pull back the covers and lay down. Jongdae climbed over Sehun and collapsed on top of him, resting his cheek Sehun’s chest. Sehun wrapped both his arms over Jongdae’s waist, cradling him against his body. Jongin watched Sehun press kisses to Jongdae’s forehead before wondering where was this Sehun when Jongin had accidentally brushed his hand across Sehun’s shirt and was told to not touch him. Sehun was only touchy with Jongdae, clingy with Jongdae, in love with Jongdae, clearly.  

Jongin carefully wheeled the rack next to the headboard before walking towards the door, determined to give them privacy. He paused at the doorway, turning around as he remembered.  

“Where can I find some burner phones?” Jongin asked. 

“Why?” Sehun asked, looking away from Jongdae for a moment to look suspiciously at Jongin.   

“I…want to call my mom,” Jongin asked. He was feeling too much, but he was sure it was nothing talking to his mother wouldn’t fix.

“Three doors down the hallway. Check the third drawer on the cabinet,” Sehun responded after he heard no buzz from Jongin’s bracelet. 

Jongin thanked Sehun, and as he closed the door behind him, the last thing he saw before the door swung shut was Jongdae leaning upwards to kiss the only person that mattered to him, sweetly pressing his lips against Sehun’s own. Sehun smiled into the kiss, closing his eyes as he held Jongdae tighter against his body. 

Jongin walked down the hallway carefully, afraid that he’d activate a trap if he stepped on the wrong panel. After following Sehun’s instructions, he cautiously entered what seemed like an armory. Guns hung from the walls and racks around the room. Curious, Jongin opened the cabinet closest to him and found, to no one’s surprise, more weapons, knives, and enough bullets to fight a thousand androids and win. This wasn’t a safehouse. This was a fortress.

After Jongin plucked a phone out of the correct drawer and activated it, he dialed his mother’s number. After three rings, she picked up. 

“Mom, it’s me,” Jongin said before his mother could ask who was calling. 

“Jongin!” she said, “How are you? Why are you calling me at this hour? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jongin said, opening another drawer to find what looked like grenades. He slowly pushed that drawer back and stepped away. “I just missed you.”

“I miss you, too,” his mother said, “Are you eating well? Sleeping well? I’ll send you some food and a new mattress if you need.” 

“I’m fine,” Jongin said, immediately muffling his phone and covering its speakers, anticipating the bright red flash. After the buzz faded, he returned the phone to his ears, “Really. I’m fine.”

“Good,” his mother sweetly said before letting out a long sigh, “I wish you lived closer so we could see each other more often. It’s such a shame all my children moved so far away. I miss all of us together under the same roof.” 

“I’ll come visit you when I can,” Jongin promised. 

“That’s what you say all the time, but work always gets in the way,” she said with a laugh, “Put work first, Jongin. It’s okay. Your career is important.”

“You’re more important, so I’m going to see you next week,” Jongin insisted, “I’ll take time off from work even if my bosses don’t like it.” 

Time off from work was the least of his concerns now, but one way or another, Jongin would see his mother again. He needed to, for the sake of his own heart and peace of mind. 

“Oh, I’m excited! I’ll make all your favorite foods,” his mother said before adding, “I really miss you, Jongin.” 

Jongin didn’t know why tears suddenly pricked his eyes. 

“I really miss you, too, Mom,” Jongin said, “Please stay safe.” 

“I will, I will,” she promised, “I don’t go anywhere much anyways. There aren’t many chances for people to file a petition against me if I’m home all the time. But you’re staying safe, right? Staying away from trouble as much as possible?” 

“Yeah,” Jongin loudly said to mask the sound of his bracelet going off again, “Absolutely. I’m at home right now curled up in bed.” 

If his mother heard the second buzz, she never said anything, only trading a few more well wishes before Jongin turned off the phone and slumped to the floor with a sigh. Lying was hard, but lying to his mother was the hardest.

The floor was cold, but Jongin, exhausted from everything that had happened, could not care if he froze to death right here and closed his eyes. Before he gave into his heavy eyelids and fell unconscious, he wrapped his arms around himself and pretended they were someone else’s arms. 

After what felt like years, Jongin awoke with a start as something nudged his leg. It could’ve been an android for all Jongin knew, but that didn’t stop him from squeezing his eyes shut to chase a few more moments of sleep. After something nudged his side, Jongin blearily cracked open an eye to find Sehun’s foot inches from his face. 

“He wants to see you,” Sehun said, letting out a laugh at Jongin’s expression before walking out of the room. 

Jongin laid on the ground, struggling to keep his eyes open. Only minutes later after he slowly sat up with a yawn did he realize someone had thrown a warm black, knitted blanket over him. Jongin yawned again as he folded the blanket and tossed it on the table next to him beside a few boxes of bullets. He stood up and trudged down the hallway, wondering what Jongdae could possibly want. 

Sehun waited by the door, raising an eyebrow when he saw Jongin. 

“You’re late,” Sehun said. 

“You never gave me a time,” Jongin said before pushing through the door. Sehun closed the door behind him, but Jongin knew he was standing guard outside. And also listening in.

“Jongin,” Jongdae said once he heard Jongin’s footsteps. He had been laying down, but once he saw him enter, he tried to sit up. Jongin rushed over to help Jongdae up before pulling a chair near the bed and taking a seat.

Here, with no danger to run from, no androids to fight, and nothing but Jongdae to focus on, Jongin remembered something that had been looming over him. For once, Jongdae said nothing at first, content with only staring at Jongin. 

“I’m sure you have a lot on your mind,” Jongdae said at last, “And I shouldn’t have told you about everything, Jongin. This truth is a burden you shouldn’t have to bear.” 

Jongin pressed his lips together before testing the truth aloud. 

“You’re my brother,” he said. 

“Sounds terrible when you say it out loud, right?” Jongdae said, wrinkling his nose, “You, a soft boy with a big heart related to a monster like me? I’m sorry.”

“You’re not,” Jongin reflexively. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to comfort Jongdae or if he really believed Jongdae wasn’t a monster. “And you don’t have to be sorry.”

“Say it, Jongin,” Jongdae said. He smiled, but his lips were stretched unnaturally, the false happiness cracking the wider he smiled. “Say what I know. I’m a monster, and when I die, I’ll face everyone whose lives I’ve destroyed.” 

“You’re a monster, and you’ll die,” Jongin said in a monotone voice, raising his wrist as the bracelet flashed red. 

Jongdae managed a laugh and finally looked away, pulling at the fabric on the bed. 

“I’m sorry. I really am, Jongin. For everything,” he said, unable to face Jongin now, “I’m sorry for taking away your dad. For dragging you out here and throwing you into this mess. For all the times you’ve risked your life for me.” 

The light in his eyes dimmed, and his smile began to droop. Jongin thought for a moment before he swallowed and opened his mouth, wondering why he was telling Jongdae all of this. 

“I had a lonely childhood,” Jongin spoke so softly that Jongdae looked up when he heard his tone and leaned a little closer to listen. He stayed silent and waited for Jongin to continue. 

“My sisters were sent to boarding school at a young age, and they never really came home after that. They studied abroad, went to college far away, and now they live in a different country. My mom liked keeping me indoors, too, since she was afraid that the more people I knew, the more people I might offend, and the more people might file a petition against me,” Jongin said, playing with his bracelet. Damaging it with intent and attempting to remove it was illegal, but Jongin had done things much worse recently and feared nothing.

“They can’t do that. Filing a petition against a child is illegal,” Jongdae frowned.  

Jongin shrugged. 

“My mom says there are some people with so much hate in their hearts that they’d wait until the child was old enough and then destroy their life,” Jongin continued, giving up after observing the way the bracelet was welded together. “So that’s why I didn’t have many friends growing up, why I played by myself all the time. And that’s why I always wished for another sibling. A brother.”

At that, he shyly looked up and found Jongdae’s eyebrows slightly raised. Jongdae opened his mouth, and before he could begin to say things like _not one like me,_ or _someone better than me_ , or _you deserve better than me_ , Jongin continued. 

“You should’ve come home. If you found Dad, then you must have found me. I know it. My mom has a big heart, and she wouldn’t have cared where you came from…You should’ve stayed with us, and then maybe it wouldn’t have to have been like this. Maybe we could’ve grown up together. Maybe you could’ve been a full-time musician, performing not just because it was your story, but because it was your life. Your own life,” Jongin finished, finding a strange calm settle in his chest despite the tears that slowly stinged his eyes. 

Jongdae smiled and patted the spot next to him on the bed. Wordlessly, Jongin sat beside him and played with the edge of the blanket, waiting for Jongdae to say something, anything at all. 

“I really do think of what it would’ve been like to grow up with you. I would’ve protected you more, done everything with you, loved to watch you grow taller and taller until you outgrew me,” Jongdae said before the look in his eyes shifted into a softer look, a sadder look. A more vulnerable look. “But if I did, I wouldn’t have met Sehun.” 

Sehun was everything to Jongdae. Really and truly.

“It’s too late to go back,” Jongdae sighed, reaching out to poke Jongin’s arm, “That sounds nice, and I’d love nothing more than that, but you can only look forward, you know? What’s done is done. You know that, right?”

Jongin glumly nodded, unable to meet Jongdae’s gaze. 

“Hey…Look at me,” Jongdae softly asked. Jongin relented and lifted his gaze upwards. He still couldn’t find the same physical features in each other’s faces, but he found the same tears mirrored in each other’s eyes.  

Jongdae reached out his hand, a hand Jongin took and slowly closed his fingers around Jongdae’s. 

“I really am sorry,” Jongdae said, patting Jongin’s hand with his other, “that you have a brother like me. But I’ll soon be gone and out of your life, all right? Retirement’s calling my name and Sehun’s. I can’t wait to see what it’ll be like.” 

“That’s not fair,” Jongin said, his mouth dropping into a pout. He supposed he must’ve inherited that from Jongdae. “You can’t disappear right when we’ve found each other. I still haven’t decided if I like you or not.”

“A true brother,” Jongdae said with a laugh, “But you do look more like your mom. I’m so glad.”

“Do you…look like him?” Jongin said, searching Jongdae’s faces for familiar features that could trigger memories of their dad from years earlier. 

“No. I look more like my mom, too,” Jongdae waved him off, “So we’re both lucky that we don’t have to look in the mirror and see traces of him.”

But that’s exactly what Jongin used to do when he was younger. Sit in front of a mirror and look for any sign that his father was still here. 

“To be honest, I never even wanted to tell you I was related you,” Jongdae shook his head, looking away from Jongin for a moment, “I guess the pressure of the moment drove me to do it. You’re already related to one demon. There’s no need to know about a second.” 

“Why did you even approach me then?” Jongin asked, ignoring Jongdae’s last comment.

“Maybe I wanted one first and last adventure with you. Maybe I wanted to cram in the times I missed with you before I left and disappeared,” Jongdae said, brushing his cheek with the back of his hand, “Maybe I just wanted to know what it would’ve been like to spend time with you.” 

“Then you should’ve never come at all,” Jongin firmly said with a shake of his head, “Not if you were just going to leave after saying hello.” 

“Yeah. I guess I was being selfish,” Jongdae said, running a hand through his hair, continuing to look down at the sheets. 

“Well,” Jongin slowly said, and without thinking, continued to speak, “I’m glad I met you at least once.” 

Jongin quickly looked up and smiled. 

“Don’t say that. You’ll make me regret leaving so soon,” Jongdae said, flopping back down in the sheets. He stared up at the ceiling motionlessly for a motion, and if he hadn’t blinked, Jongin would’ve mistaken him for a statue. Or a deactivated android. 

“You’re really going now?” Jongin asked. Jongdae would really leave his life as quickly as he had entered it, and Jongin would have nothing to hold onto once he finally left. 

“We still need that flash drive,” Jongdae said with a sigh, closing his eyes as he spoke. “Sehun told me he corrupted their entire system, and the virus Joohyun planted won’t allow any new data to be uploaded for at least three days. So we have three days to do it. It’ll be harder now since they know we’re coming, but I’ll handle it with Sehun.” 

“I’ll help,” Jongin offered. There he was, speaking without thinking again. Did he really want to do this? Risk his life for people he’d never see again? Murderers he’d never fight again? 

“Don’t. I’ve involved you enough. I should’ve protected you better, but now I’ve made everything worse,” Jongdae said, opening his eyes again, turning his head to look at Jongin through half-lidded eyes. 

“It’s okay,” Jongin said, even though it wasn’t. No, it wasn’t okay, but his capacity to empathize was bigger than his capacity to hate. 

Jongdae’s eyes fluttered as he shook his head from side to side, as if to silently protest that _no it wasn’t_. No. It wasn’t.

“You’re tired,” Jongin said, watching Jongdae’s eyes close and open periodically, “You should rest.” 

Jongdae hummed something in response, weakly stroking the skin of Jongin’s hand with a thumb. Jongin allowed Jongdae to hold him for a few seconds before sliding his hand out of Jongdae’s grasp. There was no need to become attached if Jongdae was going to leave in a few days. 

“I’ll let you rest,” Jongin said. Jongdae let his hand limply fall, too tired to reach out again. Jongin hesitated before tucking Jongdae’s arm into the blankets. It was the least he could do.

When he stood up and looked back, Jongdae had shut his eyes, looking as if he had fallen asleep with a content smile on his face. 

Jongin opened the door with a heavy sigh and walked outside to find Sehun still standing there. 

“You heard all of that,” Jongin said as he closed the door. Sehun stood with his back pressed to the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He’d thrown on a leather jacket, and if it weren’t for the blood that still stained his skin and shirt, he would’ve looked like he was ready for a night out of 8g fat top grade milk and fun. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” Sehun shrugged before brushing past Jongin, opening the door, and walking inside. At the sound of Sehun’s footsteps, Jongdae perked up, eyes flying open, as if recognizing who it was after hearing those footsteps.  Jongdae sleepily climbed onto Sehun’s lap as Sehun sat on the bed before closing his eyes again, draping his arms around Sehun’s back. Sehun held him as he fell asleep, pressing kisses to his skin, murmuring affectionate words over and over again. He, too, closed his eyes and held Jongdae as if it were the first and last time he’d ever done so. 

Jongin caught himself smiling as he watched them. 

“I’ll take first watch,” he whispered, closing the door behind them. He touched the wood of the door once more before turning around to find Joohyun standing in the shadows down the hallway.

“Can we talk?” she asked. 

Jongin waited a moment to judge her intentions, and after noticing no sign of vengeance or anger in her expression and no guns in her hands, he nodded. 

“Come downstairs,” she said, beckoning him to follow her as she began descending the stairs. Right. Back down to where all the weapons were. Where she could press a few buttons on her computers and probably cause his bracelet to electrocute him. Great.  

But despite his better judgement, Jongin trusted what Joohyun wanted to say and followed her downstairs. 

They sat at a table, the same one Jongdae had lain in hours ago. Joohyun had cleaned it, wiped the blood away, but Jongin still noticed a few small blood stains she could not scrub out from the wood. Jongin kept his distance and wondered if Joohyun would really kill him if Jongdae had made it very clear he did not want Jongin dead.

Joohyun said nothing at first, keeping her chin pointed down as she stared at the ground and dangled her legs off the chair. Finally, she looked up with a blossoming smile. 

“I heard you saw Seulgi,” she said.

“Oh,” Jongin said, “Oh, _yes_. She’s alive after all. See? No need to charge guns blazing at Yixing or me.”

Joohyun winced, tapping fingers on the table before speaking again. 

“Sorry…for the death threats,” she said, “When someone’s been taken from you, sometimes the only thing you want to do is take something away from someone, too.” 

“That isn’t right,” Jongin said, speaking more confidently now that the chance of him dying in the next few seconds passed. 

“But it’s how our society works. It’s why we never run out of jobs in this industry,” Joohyun shrugged. 

“Would you have tried to kill me now if she was still dead?” Jongin asked, careful with his words.

“When we first met, I told you that vengeance was worthless,” Joohyun admitted, “But that was because I didn’t want to let my hate consume me and transform my grief into obsession as I hunted her murderer. Your…Yixing. But when you were there standing in front of me and all I had to do was press a trigger? I don’t know. It’s too easy to kill for someone like me.” 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jongin shook his head, “Because it isn’t easy at all for me. I can’t pull the trigger without gritting my teeth and shutting one eye sometimes. Even when I’m shooting at androids.” 

“You really are soft-hearted,” Joohyun said, quirking one side of her mouth, “And you’re lucky that you have people willing to pull the trigger for you when you can’t.” 

Jongin didn’t know if that was a good thing at all. He preferred friends who’d rather love than hate, family who’d rather defend than attack. But after realizing he loved friends who kept too much hate in their hearts and shared blood with someone who’d rather hurt than heal, he shifted uncomfortably and changed the subject. One he knew Joohyun would not be able to resist talking about. 

“When we saw Seulgi…” Jongin started to say, causing Joohyun to lean closer to listen more attentively, “She obviously wasn’t an android, but she took orders like one, and her eyes…It didn’t look like there was anything behind them at all.” 

Joohyun’s expression fell, and she looked down, tracing circles on the surface of the table, lost in thought. 

“Maybe they’ve added some tech to her? Like a mind controlling device?” Joohyun asked.

“I don’t know,” Jongin shrugged, “Maybe? When we were fighting, I couldn’t see anything obvious like that around her head.” 

He didn’t notice anything at all, really, only focused on trying to stay alive. 

“I think it must be that,” Joohyun nodded, “Yes…That’s the only way they could control her. The government’s been working on too many secret projects, and this mind control tech must be that.” 

“So if we get close enough to her and destroy whatever’s controlling her mind then—” Jongin slowly said, thinking of what to do from here. 

“Then she can come home,” Joohyun smiled, her expression brightened, “Then we can have Strawberry Sundays again. And I can live again.” 

“I’m so glad,” Jongin said, returning her smile, “Are you going to retire like Jongdae and Sehun when Seulgi comes back to you?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Joohyun laughed, taking off her glasses for a second as she rubbed her eyes before wearing them again, “I like playing tech support, but I’ll have to see what Seulgi says. It isn’t easy to throw your life and everything you know behind you. In this industry, it’s harder to leave than it is to start working. If you’re an assassin, you have access to all the resources, safe houses, and help you want. But if you retire, you’re on your own.”  

“But they can do it, right? Retire safely?” Jongin asked. He had seen Jongdae and Sehun both give death the middle finger right in front of his eyes, and to him, there was nothing they could not do. 

“It’s the flash drive,” Joohyun said, taking off her glasses to clean the lenses with the bottom of her sweater, “I’ve corrupted their system so they can’t upload and download anything for a while, but since the Director still has a physical copy of Jongdae’s flash drive, every single android in the world could be on high alert for Jongdae.  Wherever he goes, he’ll be hunted.”

“Then you just need the flash drive,” Jongin said, “Before they figure out a way to reverse what you’ve done.” 

Joohyun nodded, holding her glasses up to the light before placing them back onto her face.

“Don’t tell them I said this,” she said in a quieter voice, looking behind her to make sure they were alone, “But I really don’t think it’s possible for them. I’ve checked their security system, and the Director’s ordered at least a thousand new androids to guard the building. Even if they are good, I can’t imagine how much damage they’d take if they tried to fight their way through.”  

“Oh,” Jongin said, not understanding how anything could be impossible for Jongdae and Sehun, “Can’t they sneak in? Like last time?” 

“I _said_ security’s been tripled. _Cubed_ ,” Joohyun said a little more aggressively. 

“And they can’t retire safely without the destroying flash drive,” Jongin mused.

“Yes,” Joohyun said, continuing to speak softly, “It’d be better for them to stay anyways. It’s safer. Retirement…I don’t know their plans, but they’d have to find a whole house on their own, new jobs…new cover stories. It’d be hard, even for them.” 

“I see,” Jongin said, not seeing the point really. Jongdae and Sehun sounded confident in their plan, whatever it was. They had said they’d already found a house, moved all their belongings there, and only needed this one last part of their plan before they were gone for good. A part Jongin directly messed up.

“I see,” Jongin repeated himself, pushing back his chair as he stood up.  

“Where are you going?” Joohyun asked, hastily standing up to follow him, “What are you doing now?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jongin said, waving her concern away, “Why don’t you research the mind tech that’s controlling Seulgi? If they’re going back for the flash drive, I’m sure they’ll return successful. And with her.”  

After making sure Joohyun hadn’t followed him, he hid inside a storage room containing dusty boxes and settled down in a musty corner. He took a deep breath, and before he could regret what he had decided to do, pulled out the burner phone, and dialed a number. 

Seconds later, someone picked up and answered. Jongin recognized the voice, but he didn’t recognize the frosty tone. 

“You know I can trace this call, right?” Yixing asked. 

“Then don’t,” Jongin curtly said, sure that Joohyun surely would have crafted burner phones incapable of being traced, “You won’t have to even think of lying if you just…don’t.” 

“It’s my job to,” Yixing said, “The Director tasked me with taking care of anyone associated with Jongdae and Sehun as well as data recovery. The flash drive you stole.”  

“You can look the other way,” Jongin said, making his voice softer, “For me.” 

Usually when he begged Yixing to do him a favor in that tone of voice, he most often succeeded. But he’d always asked Yixing for simple things, like staying the night even though they had work early tomorrow. Taking an early lunch break so they could spend more time together. Lying in bed together, limbs and hearts tangled even though Yixing had an early morning meeting. 

But this wasn’t a simple favor, and they were done, so Jongin wasn’t surprised when Yixing responded negatively 

“Jongin,” Yixing testily warned, “I can’t and I won’t bend every rule for you.” 

Jongin paused, struck by the coldness in his voice before managing to recover quickly.

“I think you will when you hear what I have to say,” Jongin said. If taking advantage of Yixing’s past feelings wouldn’t work, then he supposed his backup plan would have to. 

“Say it before I hang up for your own good,” Yixing said. 

“I want a trade,” Jongin proposed, “I’ll give you the Director’s flash drive, and you give me Jongdae’s. I know the Director must be keeping it close to him.” 

There was silence on the other end for a few moments that Jongin spent clutching his phone and holding his breath.

“Why are you doing this for someone you don’t even know?” Yixing asked. 

“I don’t know. It just feels right,” Jongin admitted as he finally exhaled, “I’m following my heart, and it’s telling me to do this.” 

“Jongin, if we all listened to our hearts, then we’d still be together,” Yixing said. 

Jongin froze, not prepared for that answer. Yixing’s words cut deep, but instead of making him bleed, it lit a fire inside of him, causing a scowl to sink his lips down instead of causing tears to prick his eyes. 

“Give me the flash drive, and I’ll give you the Director’s flash drive. I’ll texting you the coordinates of our meeting place, so come alone or the deal’s off. And you’ll never see me again,” Jongin curtly said. That was a lie, confirmed by the flash of his wristband. There was no way Jongin could really stay away from Yixing, could live the rest of his life without seeing him again, could stop loving him at all despite everything that had happened.  

“Okay,” Yixing conceded ten seconds later, sounding defeated. Tired. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, Jongin. But okay.”

After the call ended, Jongin hung up and stared outside the window, finding smog cluttering the horizon, people walking down the streets. This was a practical location for a safehouse. Jongin could see the streets clearly, see anyone around their immediate vicinity. And if needed, he could have easily escaped by jumping off of this roof and onto the roofs around them.  

After waiting long enough, Jongin texted the address of the meeting place to Yixing and exited the room, ignoring the curious look Joohyun gave him. He climbed the stairs, each step feeling harder and harder to take, and entered the armory. He trusted Yixing, but he didn’t trust who Yixing worked with. Inside, he rummaged around the cabinets and drawers before concealing a loaded gun on his body and shoving extra bullets into his pockets. There was a leather jacket laying on the table, and after picking it up and examining it, Jongin threw it on, sure Jongdae wouldn’t mind if he borrowed it. 

Jongin strode down the hall with purpose, knocking on the door of Jongdae’s room before pushing it open to find Jongdae and Sehun laying together again with their eyes closed. This time, Sehun’s head was on Jongdae’s chest, as if he was listening to Jongdae’s heart. Jongdae stroked Sehun’s hair with a content smile on his face. 

“Hello?” Jongin softly spoke, taking a step back, not wanting to intrude on the moment. 

“Jongin,” Jongdae smiled, opening his eyes to give Jongin his attention, “What do you need?” 

“I’m going out,” Jongin asked, retreating to the doorframe. He hid his left hand behind the wall, aware that his bracelet could go off at any second.  

“Where?” Jongdae asked, beginning to raise an eyebrow as he waited for Jongin’s answered.  

Jongin mimed taking a swig of a drink, knowing that he could get away with a nonverbal lie 

“Want anything?” Jongin finished.

Jongdae looked at him suspiciously but didn’t protest. Sehun had cracked opened his eyes and kept his hand snaked around Jongdae’s body, shifting only his neck so he could take a better look at Jongin.

“You should stay,” Jongdae said, “It’s not safe out there right now if you go by yourself,” Jongdae said. 

“You’ll be in danger if you drink something alcoholic,” Sehun said, “Remember—” 

“Non-alcoholic. I remember,” Jongin said, tapping his head, “I promise. I need a clear mind always, and I always have to be careful in public spaces. 

Sehun nodded, satisfied with Jongin’s response.  

“Make sure to circle around the area, zig zag through the alleyways if you think anyone is following you. Don’t look directly at an android in case they’ve put your face on the wanted list,” Jongdae warned, “And most of all, don’t—” 

“If you’ve ever wanted to be a nagging, overprotective brother, you’ve nailed it,” Jongin interrupted. 

Jongdae let out a soft laugh, causing Sehun to smile and nestle closer.

“You’re a good kid, Jongin. I’m sure you’ll be fine. You only got into all this mess because of me, remember? What trouble could you possibly find on your own?” Jongdae said, “Come back in an hour. I think Joohyun demanded your help with dinner.” 

“Right,” Jongin said, letting out a laugh that he hoped didn’t sound as forced as he thought, “I’ll head out now before the sun goes down.” 

“Okay,” Jongdae said, giving him a thumbs up, “Come back soon.” 

“I will,” Jongin said, “Take care.” 

Jongdae sent him off with a smile and a wave of his fingers, before tapping Sehun’s head and causing him to lazily raise his hand in farewell. Jongin lingered for a second more before finally turning around and shutting the door behind him. 

As he walked down the hallway, he pulled out the Director’s flash drive to make sure he hadn’t accidentally lost it. After examining it and finding it in good condition, he shoved it back into his pocket and walked down the stairs. Joohyun waited for him below, crossing her arms across her chest as he attempted to leave.

“Whatever you’re doing,” Joohyun said, raising out a hand to stop him, “Don’t. Or at least don’t go alone.”

“I’m not doing anything right now,” Jongin said, stopping in his tracks, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“That expression on your face…” Joohyun said, keeping her hand raised, “It’s the same one Seulgi had before she left for the last time. The last time I saw her.” 

“Well, she’s still alive, and I am, too,” Jongin said, and before she could respond, he exited the safehouse and shut the door behind him. 

Jongin hunched his shoulders once the early evening wind blew across his face, nipping at his cheeks and biting the tip of his nose. Taking Jongdae’s advice and his mother’s advice, he never looked anyone in the eye if he could help it. The more discreet he was, the better and safer he would be. 

He was halfway to the meeting place before realizing that this was the last bit of leverage he had against the Director. If he easily handed it over, where would that leave him? Where would that leave Jongdae and Sehun if this trade went badly? Jongin checked the time before ducking into an alley, leaning against the brick wall as he pulled out the flash drive. It was no bigger than the size of his pinky finger. Pulsing green patterns decorated its sleek, black case. After examining it for a moment more, Jongin uncapped it and jammed the flash drive into his bracelet, frowning as he scrolled through the logs and words and numbers that were immediately projected in the air. 

This wasn’t anything confidential or important at all.

 

LUNCH 12:30 PM. Had one sandwich and one apple. 

MEETING 2:30 Met with the branch directors and spoke to them about security upgrades. 

BACK 5:00.

 

Jongin stared, wondering if he had accidentally stolen the Director’s diary. There was absolutely no reason for someone’s life to be this boring, but if the Director so desperately wanted the diary back, then he must have kept a record of something illegal or a crime he committed somewhere. Jongin continued looking through the Director’s logs, but before he allowed the text to put him to sleep and before he could find anything incriminating, he checked the time and hurried out of the alleyway, not willing to be late to the meeting.

When he reached the meeting place, Jongin carefully scoped out the area and confirmed no one had been following him. He studied the area around him, watching for any agents disguised as civilians. He gave up after he picked apart the crowd and found Yixing. No matter how many people there were in a crowd, Jongin could always find him so easily. 

Yixing dressed casually, throwing the hood of his sweater over his head, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans. He looked…really good…but Jongin wouldn’t admit that out loud. He wouldn’t have to anyways, the blush on his cheeks speaking for him. 

“Yixing,” Jongin said once Yixing met him in the middle of the area right next to a fountain. Yixing took his hands out of his pockets and gazed at him. Jongin had been afraid of how Yixing would look at him after their last conversation, but he relaxed, finding nothing but a certain, pained softness.

“Jongin, I just want to know w—” Yixing started to say before Jongin stopped him with a hand. 

“Trade first. Talk later,” Jongin insisted. 

Yixing fell silent and nodded, pulling out a flash drive from his pocket and holding it out towards Jongin.

“How do I know yours is the right one? Jongin asked as he reached into his pocket and did the same.

“I could ask you the same,” Yixing said. 

“I guess we can’t trust each other with this,” Jongin said, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was a smile Yixing mirrored, and before Jongin allowed himself to wonder why everything had to go wrong, he took Yixing’s wrist and plugged in his flash drive. 

Yixing held Jongin’s arm steady as he did the same. For a moment, the two looked through the projected content to make sure that there were no tricks planned, no deceit intended. 

“What does it mean?” Jongin asked, glancing at his wrist as Yixing scrolled through the same boring logs. 

“That’s not for you to know,” Yixing said. 

“Fine,” Jongin said, looking away to focus on the information on Jongdae’s flash drive. After scrolling throough a list of Jongdae’s known associates and known hideouts, Jongin was amused to find that no information was available about Jongdae’s other career as the best singer of all time.  

“Okay. Trade on three,” Jongin said, satisfied with what he found. 

The trade was anti-climatic. 

Jongin had expected guns pointed in each other’s faces, flash drives tossed across the floor at the same moment. But all they did was calmly pass each other their respective flash drives without another word. 

Once the trade was over, Jongin wasn’t foolish enough to keep the flash drive and risk getting caught with it. Instead, he placed it on the ground, pulled out his gun, and shot it. The sound of the fired gun sent the crowd into a panic. In retrospect, maybe Jongin should have waited at least until he was in a lonely alleyway or behind a building before firing a gun.  

“Why did you do that?” Yixing asked, crossing his arms as he watched civilians flee the area.  

“Because,” Jongin said, stepping and stomping on the remaining pieces that the bullet missed. “It’s what I wanted to do for Jongdae and Sehun.” 

“Exactly. Why?” Yixing asked, wrinkling his nose as he eyed the fragments of the flash drive, “It’s Jongdae and Sehun. People in our branch have dedicated their lives to chasing them, and you’re going to throw away their work? Let them both get away with everything?” 

“I’m not part of that branch anymore. Remember?” Jongin said, scooping up the miniscule pieces of the flash drive and tossing it into the fountain beside them. “I was transferred to D.O.U.C.H.E. on your recommendation. So thanks.” 

Yixing rubbed his face, clearly not understanding. 

“You risk your life for so much, Jongin. It’s not worth it. Your life is your life, so keep it for yourself,” Yixing tiredly said, “Don’t give it away to others who wouldn’t do the same for you.”

Jongin remembered all the times Jongdae had saved him and disagreed.  

“I’d do it again, you know,” Jongin said after a pause. 

“Give me five minutes so I can buy another flash drive for you to shoot,” Yixing, said, blowing his bangs out of his eyes.  

“I wasn’t talking about the flash drive. Or Jongdae. Or Sehun,” Jongin said, his voice a little softer, “I was talking about this.” 

He lifted up his shirt to reveal the scar that snaked up his abdomen. 

Yixing turned away and shakily exhaled.  

“I don’t deserve you heart Jongin,” Yixing said, closing his eyes, “Look where my love got you.” 

“I’m still alive,” Jongin said, pounding his chest with a fist, “I stayed alive for you. Can’t you see you make me stronger? We’re better together.” 

“I don’t know about that, Jongin,” Yixing shook his head, “You got shot.” 

“Which made you leave me because you thought that would lower my chances of getting shot again by a hundred percent. But what did I do after that?” Jongin said, his loud words causing Yixing to open his eyes again, “What did I do after you left me? I followed Jongdae. I met Sehun. And guess what? I got shot at too many times to count.” 

“Jongin,” Yixing said, hesitating as he processed Jongin’s words, “Doing just that has landed you in more trouble than I can even imagine. The Director…He knows.” 

“So what?” Jongin said, tilting his chin up, keeping his shoulders straight, “I’d do it again, all over again anytime.”

“You don’t _get_ it,” Yixing said, whispering loudly as he looked around, as if he were worried someone would hear. But after the stunt Jongin pulled, there was no one but a few pigeons scattered throughout the space. “It’s bad…It’s really bad. My head is telling me to send you away and help you hide forever, but my heart wants you here by my side. But then again, listening to my heart the first time only got you nearly killed.” 

“So you’re telling me to hide?” Jongin asked, crossing his arms, wondering why it was so hard for Yixing to listen to his heart. 

“Yeah. You could go with Jongdae. I’m sure he’d let you tag along to wherever he’s going after this,” Yixing sighed. 

But that would be the equivalent of third wheeling Sehun’s and Jongdae’s honeymoon, so he’d really prefer not to. 

“Can’t I stay with you instead?” Jongin asked. Pleaded. He jutted out his bottom lip just the way he knew Yixing couldn’t resist. “I know you’d be able to get me out of anything. And we could try again.” 

“Jongin, I don’t have the most power in this company,” Yixing said, shifting his weight around. He was always restless, always needing to shake his leg if he was sitting, always needing to leave if he thought he’d overstayed his welcome. “I’m not powerful enough to save you completely.” 

“Love isn’t love if you don’t fight for it,” Jongin said, “Would you fight for me?” 

Yixing fell silent, studying Jongin’s expression, tracing the curve of his jaw with his eyes before he spoke. 

“I think it’s bold of you to assume I’ve still got feelings for you after all of this,” Yixing evenly said, “As if I’d do anything for you after everything you’ve done.” 

“Oh. Okay,” Jongin said, tilting his head. He would not let those words hurt as much as they should have. But there was still one thing he needed to hear before he’d panic and let those tears that pricked his eyes spill out onto his cheeks. “Then tell me you hate me. Look me in the eyes and say you feel nothing. And only then will I finally let you go.” 

Yixing sighed, turning away for a moment. The bell tower in the distance chimed, singing a haunting tune as birds scattered, chased from their resting place. The water in the fountain gurgled noisily, churning and churning the same water over and over again. Yixing peered at his reflection in the water for another moment before he turned back to Jongin. 

“Okay. I feel nothing,” Yixing said at last, stepping closer so they were only inches apart. He gazed intently at Jongin, his expression revealing nothing and everything at all as he continued to hammer the nail he had lodged into Jongin’s heart. “I feel absolutely nothing, and every day is easy without you by my side. My heart isn’t lonely, my bed is still warm, and you never left a hole in my life after I left you three months ago. I don’t stay up thinking about you. I don’t go to work thinking about visiting you one floor down. I don’t love you, and I especially don’t want to kiss you ever again.”  

Jongin’s eyes widened as those words echoed in his mind. He hadn’t expected Yixing to say all of that, to mean all of that, and he was prepared to turn around, to flee before he could show Yixing his tears. 

But then he heard the buzz. 

Saw the red flash.

The smile. 

That soft smile on Yixing’s face.

 _“Stop_ ,” Jongin loudly protested, pushing Yixing away, “You can’t do that. You scared me.” 

He shakily inhaled, feeling his eyebrows knit upwards as he swallowed his tears away. 

“Come on,” Yixing smiled, reaching out to hold Jongin’s face in his hands, “That was the first time I lied, and you’re acting like this?” 

Jongin sniffed, wrapping his arms around Yixing before burying his head into Yixing’s neck. He closed his eyes, feeling his heart burst. He’d missed this…missed Yixing, missed his touch and his love. Those three months they spent apart were the three longest months of their lives.

“You mean everything to me, which is why I’m sending you away,” Yixing said, holding Jongin so tightly that they had begun to sway on the spot. 

“You always do that,” Jongin frowned, lifting his head up to offer Yixing a half-hearted glare, “Like I said, if you love something, fight for it. Don’t send it away. Don’t send me away. Fight for me, Yixing, just like I’ll always fight for you.” 

Yixing didn’t say anything, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with what Jongin had said. But instead, he reached out to hold Jongin’s face once again, staring longingly before leaning in and capturing Jongin’s lips in a tender kiss. It started sweet, hesitant, as if Yixing was timidly checking whether or not Jongin still felt the same after all this time. But Jongin did. He did, he’d always loved Yixing from the moment they met in that practice room until now, and once he responded back with enthusiasm, Yixing deepened the kiss and held him so tightly Jongin thought his heart would finally stop. 

The sound of loud yelling was what broke them apart, what dissolved the dream into a bitter reality. 

“ _There he is!”_

“Initiate: Detainment sequence.” 

“Target spotted: Kim Jongin.” 

Jongin felt someone rip him from Yixing’s arms, another person tackle him to the ground, and only after he opened his eyes did he realize he had been crying. Never the one who reacted well to surprises, Jongin froze, only able watch as androids surrounded him. A meter away, Yixing, restrained by two androids, screamed as he struggled to fight his way towards Jongin. 

“You did this?” Jongin asked, feeling another tear slide down his cheek. Androids had roughly pinned his arms behind his back, but all he could do was stare at Yixing as they cuffed him. 

“No… _no_ ,” Yixing shouted, thrashing against the androids that held him back, “They must’ve followed me.” 

Jongin didn’t resist, only laying his head down on the stone floor as he remembered what Sehun had said. He should’ve anticipated this so the betrayal would hurt less. 

For the first time in a while, Jongin was about to curse, but just as he uttered a loud _f—_ , he was knocked out by a blow to the head before he could finish the word.

 

 

ϟ ϟ ϟ

 

 

Jongin awoke hours later on the ground. After minutes spent trying to remain conscious, Jongin finally pulled himself up, feeling his head throb painfully. He tried to touch his head before realizing his hands had been cuffed together with metal manacles. His bracelet was still visible, still glowing a sickly green. 

Blearily, Jongin attempted to stand up, but after feeling his body ache too much, he lay back down on the floor and peered around him. It seemed he had been placed in a black cell caged off by a web of thin, red lasers. He was sure that if he touched it, his fingers would be burned off.  

That was all Jongin could muster before he closed his eyes and fell asleep again, hoping that the next time he woke up, all his problems would be magically solved. 

When he awoke two hours later, of course that didn’t happen. 

This time, Jongin crawled to the back of the cell before sitting with his back pressed against the wall. It was too dark to tell for sure, but the rest of the cell seemed empty, nothing but a black abyss that would’ve been pitch black save for the lasers that cast a dim light on Jongin’s skin.

After minutes spent touching the walls trying to find a secret way out, Jongin sat back down, remembering what had happened. 

He supposed that this was the consequence of having a heart. If he had been more logical and if he put himself first, he wouldn’t be here. Sitting in detainment. Sitting with nothing to do gave him time to think, time to believe that Joohyun had checked the cams around the city after Jongin never returned. She would’ve found Jongin in seconds, showing Jongdae and Sehun footage of that flash drive destroyed. And that was all Jongdae and Sehun needed before they packed up the rest of their stuff, probably halfway to their new house by now. And Yixing… 

Yixing.

Jongin stubbornly refused to think about him. 

It was hard to tell if it was day or night, as the cell was windowless and his bracelet had been stripped of every function except its lie detection. How long had it been? It could’ve been hours or days or even weeks, and Jongin closed his eyes, leaning his head on the wall as he wondered how worried his mother probably was if he had missed one of her calls. 

Jongin tried freeing his hands, gritting his teeth as strained and pulled against the cuffs. But after no success, he gave up and simply closed his eyes again. There was nothing to do but sleep in a time like this. Jongin had been exhausted and sleep-deprived, so at least he could start making up for restless nights and brutally early mornings. 

But he didn’t have to sit alone in the darkness for too long, as suddenly, the lasers at the front of the cell disappeared, allowing a human to enter the room. 

“Hello,” a woman said, flanked by two androids. Jongin eyed her white coat and assumed she was a doctor. 

“Where am I?” Jongin asked even though he could guess. 

“Detainment,” she smoothly answered. 

Detainment… 

Oh. That was one step closer to extermination. With that confirmed, the panic was beginning to crash down upon him, and in the presence of the androids and their big guns, Jongin was far from okay.

“Why am I here?” Jongin asked, huddling against the wall, trying to place as much distance between the androids and him as possible. 

“You know why you’re here,” the woman smoothly, “You know what you’ve done.” 

“No, not really,” Jongin hastily said. His bracelet buzzed and matched the color of the lasers. 

“Society has no use for liars, especially those who aid assassins,” she said, “So you’ve been detained, and—” 

“When is my trial?” Jongin asked. He squinted at her, but it was too difficult to make out any distinctive features. 

“There will be no trial,” she announced, “Your crimes are enough to consider you for detainment without release.” 

“So what now?” Jongin asked, swallowing hard. What could he do in a situation like this without any weapons? Jongdae would talk his way out. Sehun would sneak his way out. But Jongin was neither Jongdae nor Sehun and wondered if it was possible to cry his way out of this mess.  

“We assess you for extermination or termination,” the woman said. The androids beside her remained motionless, waiting for the command to attack, the order to kill. 

“What’s the difference?” Jongin asked, heart slamming violently in his chest, “They’re both synonyms. They can both mean murder.” 

“Not the same thing,” the woman said, shaking her head, “They’re not. You already know what extermination means, given your history in D.O.U.C.H.E. Termination means the end of a contract.” 

“I haven’t signed any contract,” Jongin said, forgetting in the moment that he had signed two before. Once when he started his career at A.S.S. The other when he was forcibly transferred to D.O.U.C.H.E. 

“There are rules when you’re born,” the woman said, “rules that apply when you take your first breath, when a bracelet gets clamped onto your wrist the moment you take your first cry. As a human, you must not lie. As a human, you must act logically to minimize damage and harm to the rest of society. And it is clear that you’ve broken all those rules, Kim Jongin.” 

“Then terminate my contract. Remove this bracelet then,” Jongin said, lifting his hands up, struggling to understand what he had heard.

“It doesn’t work like that. We terminate human contracts not at your will, but ours,” the woman said. From where Jongin sat, she looked nothing more than a shadow, almost indistinguishable from the rest of the darkness. 

“Ours…Who are you? Who do you represent?” Jongin asked, digging his heels into the ground. He would not be afraid. He didn’t have time to be. 

“The government of course,” she said, “The branch of directors.” 

“So the Director,” Jongin said, latching onto someone he knew, “He looks after everything?” 

“Of course,” the woman nodded, “How do you think we found you so quickly? He may focus on A.S.S., but his assistance to detainment is invaluable.” 

“So he knows I’m here,” Jongin said. If that were true, he was lucky to be alive. 

“He sent me to assess you. Usually, we’d keep you in detainment longer while we discuss your case, but he was very adamant when the situation was explained to him. He wanted you to be exterminated or terminated as soon as possible,” the woman said. 

Jongin resisted the urge to scream. He still didn’t know what termination meant, but he didn’t want to find out.

“How sweet,” Jongin said, struggling to keep the tremor in his voice from manifesting into a noticeable shake, “How motherf—" 

“If you don’t mind, we will begin,” she said, snapping her fingers even though Jongin very much minded. An android stepped forward, face concealed behind a helmet that showed nothing but its red eyes. 

Jongin was soon subject to a series of unpleasant tests. The first was psychological, and in his cell, he answered questions the woman asked him. These questions were focused on morality, demanding what Jongin would do if someone had filed a petition against him or if the government denied a petition he had filed. Jongin answered easily, telling the woman that he might have been working for D.O.U.C.H.E., but he never wanted to even touch a petition off work hours. Petitions were part of a broken system that needed to be abolished, and that was that. 

After he had confidently said that, the woman stood, snapping her fingers and causing the androids to uncuff Jongin. For a second, he thought he was free to go. 

That was before the androids swung at him, taking turns to punch and kick. It was hard to see clearly, to fight coherently in the darkness, but Jongin had no desire to die in a cell away from his family, so he fought on. There were no guns involved, so after a minute, Jongin had managed to throw each of the androids onto the floor, victoriously standing above their bodies, panting hard. 

“Congratulations,” the woman announced, “You have passed the reflexes test. Please await the final test.” 

“Final test?” Jongin asked, leaning against the wall as he recovered from the fight, “What are you testing me for?”

“Must I remind you again? This is to determine whether or not you are fit for extermination or termination,” she said before turning around nodding as more androids marched into the cell, dragging another detained human in. Androids began placing circular balls of red light around the air, and Jongin watched for a second, mesmerized by the way they hovered. 

“This is the final test,” she said, nodding as the androids pushed the man forwards to face Jongin. 

“What’s the test?” Jongin asked as androids grabbed his hand and the man’s hand before handing them each a knife. 

“Fight to the death,” the woman said, “You pass when you’re the only one left standing. This part of the test won’t end until one of you die.”

“Wait,” Jongin said, holding up a hand, thinking of how ridiculous this was. Fighting to the death in a dimly lit cell? “Wait a second…I don’t want to do th—” 

That was when the man leapt forwards with a strangled cry, jabbing at Jongin with jagged attacks. Jongin easily dodged the attacks, realizing he had been paired with an ordinary civilian who probably had never been in a fight until now.   

“Listen,” Jongin said as he dodged a lunge to his throat, “I don’t want to—” 

“If you don’t, then he will,” the woman said, “It’s you or him. Kill or die.” 

“Nah,” Jongin shook his head, “I don’t see the need for this. Can’t both of us live?” 

“It doesn’t work that way,” the woman said, signaling the androids to step closer, forming a tighter circle to cage them in. In this tight space, Jongin was forced to attack after he no longer had enough space to jump back and dance around the blade. Finally, he countered, drawing blood from the man’s hand before stopping, waiting as the man clutched his arm. If Jongin wanted, he could’ve ended it right here right now. But instead, he waited for the man to recover before continuing to block the attacks effortlessly. 

“It’d be so easy to do it,” the woman said, “Kill him, Jongin. Kill him, and you pass. Kill him, and you live.” 

“No,” Jongin shook his head. He had enough of this fight and disarmed the man easily before twisting his arm behind his back and pushing him to the floor. He pointed the knife at the man’s neck, but there was no way he could even fathom slitting someone’s throat. Jongin looked away after the man began to tearfully beg for his life. 

“Last chance, Jongin,” the woman said, “Your test will be incomplete if you fail to finish. Remember that you only have two options. Kill or be killed.” 

Jongin didn’t know what incomplete would mean, what passing or failing involved, so he only threw the knife on the floor, listening to its clang echo in the room before he folded his arms across his chest. 

“Well, I’m obviously not going to kill him, and he can’t kill me either,” Jongin stood his ground, “So can’t you call it a tie? Special circumstances.”  

“Yes, you are special,” the doctor said, cocking her head, “But for the wrong reasons. You are an anomaly that must be dealt with immediately.” 

Jongin didn’t know how to respond, placing his hands on his hips as he caught his breath. He stared below him, letting out a gasp after finding the man laying so still on the floor. Panicking, he knelt down, pressing a finger to his neck. After finding a pulse, he breathed in relief. Good. He hadn’t accidentally killed him. 

“I thought you were going to choke him just then. Shame,” the woman said, clucked her tongue 

“But I didn’t. I’d never,” Jongin insisted as he stood up again. 

“Disappointing,” the woman sighed, making a few hand gestures Jongin couldn’t quite see in the dim light, “You’ve sealed your fate now. I had high hopes for you in termination despite the Director’s misgivings because of your A.S.S training and strong combat skills, but you’ve proved him right. I see.” 

Some of the androids exited out of the room, shepherded by the woman. 

“So what is it then?” Jongin asked, struggling when two androids suddenly grabbed his arm. A different one snapped the cuffs back onto his wrists. “Termination or extermination?”  

“Extermination,” the woman said, gesturing at the man near Jongin’s feet. An android stretched out an arm without question and shot him.

Jongin screamed.

This was not the first time he’d seen someone murdered in front of him, nor would it be the last. But it wasn’t any easier for him no matter how many times he had played witness. The man hadn’t even had time to fight, to see the shot coming. 

“Your humanity is obviously something that can’t be terminated despite all the situations we’ve placed you in, so termination has no use for you. You will be scheduled for extermination shortly. Enjoy your last hours of life,” the woman said, having the audacity to wave at Jongin as the androids exited. Seconds later, the lasers reappeared, locking Jongin back into the cell with nothing but the dead body for company. 

Jongin crawled to the corner, hoping to be as far away from the blood and the body as possible. And finally, after sinking down and pressing his back to the cold wall, he lowered his head into his arms and cried. It was a miracle he had held himself together for that long, but now, his shoulders shook, and he gasped for breath as tears rained from his eyes once again. 

He wasn’t brave. 

Not at all. 

Extermination here clearly meant something different to Jongin’s understanding because no one had even filed a petition against him. And yet, here he was, about to look death in the eyes and realize he had lost. He had lost, and he was going to die alone. He shakily inhaled, tried breathing as much as he could, scared that any breath would be his last.

Maybe if he had killed that man himself, he wouldn’t have had to sit here anticipating the end. Too much heart was Jongdae’s strength, but it was Jongin’s weakness. 

It wasn’t _fair._

Jongin liked being alive. He loved it. And now that everything was going to end twenty-six years too early, he wished he could’ve done so many things differently. 

He wished he could’ve spent more time with his mother, hugged his sisters tighter before they left for boarding school He wished he would’ve continued to dance after college. He wished that he could’ve picked a job he actually liked instead of choosing A.S.S., that he had met Jongdae sooner, that he could tell his mother he loved her a last time. And he wished, for the first time, that he could feel less. 

He also wished he didn’t feel so alone right now. 

If this really was the end, then he wanted someone else for company besides this dead body. As he continued to dread the future, he realized that if this was what the government did to others in detainment, then that meant they killed more people than Jongin was aware of without using legal petitions, without waiting for court dates.  

Jongin couldn’t manage to think coherently any longer, hearing his screams echo in the cell as another wave of tears hit him. This was a nightmare, just a nightmare he’d wake up from. God, he really must’ve been quite the sight now, though looking presentable and not a mess was the least of his concerns now. He gasped, forcing himself to stay quiet as he heard footsteps thundering outside his cell. Pressing his lips together, he wondered if it was time for extermination.

Then he heard that voice. 

 _Oh, Jongin._

Jongin lifted his head up, wondered if he was dreaming before scrambling up and racing to the edge of the cell. He stood as closely to the lasers as he dared, and when he stared through the bars, he dropped to his knees, leaned on the wall, and let out a sob. After everything that had happened, this was finally his breaking point. 

And of course, right in front of him to witness it all was Yixing himself. 

Yixing dropped to his knees as well, and he reached a hand out, as if wanting to touch Jongin’s shoulder before remembering the lasers. 

“I’m so sorry,” Yixing said, continuing to hold his hand out near Jongin. 

Jongin shook his head, desperately trying to stop crying. Yixing didn’t need to see him like this.

“Did you do it? Set me up?” Jongin asked, his voice hoarse. 

“No… _no_. Of course not,” Yixing loudly protested, “Of _course not_. Protecting you is my priority. I’d done all I could to keep the Director from knowing about your involvement, and I hoped to fix everything before he could even suspect you. But it was too late. Somehow, he knew. He must’ve sent his own guards, his own androids after me when I came to you.”

Jongin hung his head, wanting to hide his head in his hands. Everything that could go wrong did. 

“Yixing, what’s termination?” Jongin asked. His tears were over, his hysterics finished. Now there was only a sickening calmness, a paralyzing dread.

“Termination?” Yixing furrowed his brows, “Did they mention it to you?” 

“Yeah,” Jongin nodded, “It doesn’t apply to me, but they never explained it clearly.” 

Yixing exhaled hard. Jongin expected him to say that this was above Jongin’s clearance level, but clearly, Yixing no longer cared about something like that.  

“Termination,” Yixing began to carefully say, “as they believe…is the cancellation of one’s contract as a human.” 

“I don’t understand,” Jongin said, “That’s what they said, but it doesn’t make any sense to me. 

“It’s an overly complicated way of saying that terminated people stop becoming humans to start becoming something else. An android,” Yixing said.

Jongin’s jaw dropped, eyes widening as he shook his head again and again. 

“ _No_ ,” he said in a hushed voice. 

“Yes,” Yixing said, sticking his hand as close to the lasers as he dared, “I’m sorry, but yes.”

“So…they’re all human,” Jongin tried to process the information. No wonder they had all looked so realistic. 

“With some technological modifications,” Yixing said, “A mechanical heart here and there…a few implants in the brain…But yes.” 

“So they’re alive,” Jongin said, thinking of Seulgi, “and the government controls them using mind control tech.” 

Yixing hesitated. 

“I’m sorry, Jongin,” Yixing quietly said after a pause, “but they’re dead. They’re dead bodies that the government controls however they like.” 

Jongin squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head. So Joohyun was going to lose Seulgi a second time. 

“I thought all I’d have to do as a high-ranking member of A.S.S. would be tracking assassins,” Yixing continued to speak, “They don’t tell you at first what they do with caught assassins or other people about to be killed by petitions. But after I took down Seulgi, they promoted me. And told me what they would do to her. What they’ve done to all of them." 

“That’s ridiculous,” Jongin said, finding it much easier to be in denial, “If that were true, then I’m sure people would recognize android faces all the time.” 

“Some get plastic surgery, and most are deployed to countries they’ve ever been to. And who actually looks into the eyes of an android these days?” Yixing said. 

Jongin sighed, shaking his head. Petitions. Androids. Extermination. The Director had no right to say anything about Jongdae and Sehun if this was the agenda he promoted.  

“Then at least I’ll die human,” he said, taking his time to breathe, “with my own, beating heart in my chest.” 

“What do you mean?” Yixing asked 

“They’ve processed me for extermination,” Jongin said. A wry smile lifted up his lips. How much time did he have left now?

“ _No_ ,” Yixing blurted out, reaching out to grab the laser bars before remembering at the last second. His expression contorted, and he continually shook his head as he gazed at Jongin. 

“I was supposed to have at least two weeks to get you out of here. No one gets exterminated that easily,” Yixing forcefully raised his voice, the last syllables of his protest echoing throughout the tall ceilings.  

“Director’s personal orders,” Jongin said, leaning his cheek on the cold wall. He thought he was fine before he tried to swallow and found a lump strangling his throat. All of a sudden, he tried to inhale, choking when he couldn’t. 

“I’m so scared, Yixing,” Jongin said, squeezing his hands into fists as his breathing became shallower and quicker. “I don’t…I don’t want this to be the last place I see. The last moments I experience.” 

“I’ll fix this,” Yixing said, his own voice cracking, “Just hold on. You’ll be fine. You’ll live. I’ll get you out, so focus on staying alive.” 

 _Okay_ was all Jongin could manage saying. Yixing stood, about to leave before he left Jongin with one final word.

“I’m kissing you when this is all over. Promise,” Yixing said, looking as if he was seriously debating how much it would hurt if he stuck his hand in the lasers just to hold Jongin’s hand. 

“I’m holding you to that,” Jongin nodded, forcing a slight smile to appear on his face not for his own sake, but Yixing’s. He watched Yixing dart off and waited until he was out of sight before the smile slid off his face and he was alone again. Scared again. Not ready to die again.

But Yixing would help him.

Save him. 

So all he had to do was wait a little bit longer, and things would be fine. He could do this. He could wait. He could hold on. He could wa— 

“You are authorized for one last call,” an android said out of nowhere, lowering two lasers so they could stick a phone through Jongin’s cell. “One last contact before you are exterminated.”

Jongin shakily pulled himself to his feet, stumbled over to the android, and took the phone without looking the android in the eye. 

“If you do anything illogical, I will exterminate you instantaneously,” the android said.

“Just a phone call? No last meal or anything?” Jongin said, trying to channel some of Jongdae to help make surviving bearable. 

“Why would we waste that on you?” the android said, “It is not wise to waste resources on someone who shall be exterminated shortly.” 

Shortly. 

At least Jongin still had time to breathe, even if it was only for a little while. After the android uncuffed him, Jongin retreated to the corner of his cell, turning around so he wouldn’t have to look at the number. As he dialed a number, he prayed for the call to connect. _Please_. 

“Hello?” Jongin asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as small as he felt. 

“Jongin?” 

“ _Mom_ ,” Jongin breathed, trying to keep his composure. He didn’t want to seem overtly distressed because he didn’t want to worry her.  

“Jongin, how are you doing?” she asked. “You’re eating well, right? Sleeping well?” 

“Yeah. Everything’s absolutely fine,” Jongin lied, moving his arm as far away as possible from his phone so it wouldn’t catch the beep of the bracelet. 

“Good!” she said, “But what’s that in your voice? Why is it so muffled? Where are you?” 

“At home under the covers,” Jongin quickly said, pressing the phone to his chest to muffle the sound of his bracelet, “You know how I always liked hiding under the covers when I was younger.” 

“Oh, Jongin,” his mother sighed, “You only did that when you wanted to hide. What are you hiding from now?”

“Nothing,” Jongin hastily said. He wasn’t quick enough this time to muffle the noise. 

“I heard that,” his mother said, the cheerfulness slowly fading from her voice, “Please tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.” 

Jongin hesitated. These were his last words, so if things didn’t go to Yixing’s plan, then he didn’t want to die without knowing. 

“Do you know a Kim Jongdae?” he asked, almost biting his tongue when a steep silence followed. 

After thirty seconds of silence, Jongin was about to ask if she was still there, if he hadn’t run out of time on the call before his mother answered. 

“How do you know that name?” his mother finally replied, speaking slowly, sounding so soft Jongin had to increase the volume by at least five notches.

“I know what he did,” Jongin said as simply as that, “I know who he is.” 

Jongin waited in silence for another moment before lifting the phone from his ear to check if the call was still connected. After watching the numbers count upwards, he wondered how much time he had left. 

“Don’t blame him too much,” his mother said at last. 

“So you do know him,” Jongin said, “You do know what he’s done.” 

His mother had never quite lied to him about his father. When he was younger, she always said that he’d gone far away for a while. That didn’t mean much when he was nine or twelve, but when he was older, he realized what that meant. 

Another pause.

“It was half of my fault,” she said, “I met Jongdae…Well. You know you were about eight years old when your father died, right?”

“Right,” Jongin said. How could he forget? He still remembered the day he found his mother in the kitchen, wondering why her expression was so blank. After she noticed him standing by the fridge, she sank down to her knees, held his shoulders, and told him his father wouldn’t be coming home. She refused to say anything more after that no matter how much he tearfully asked. No matter how much he begged for his father back. 

“Jongdae was ten,” his mother said, causing Jongin to press fingers over his mouth.

“Ten is too young,” Jongin said, his voice hushed. When he was ten, he was constantly between dance lessons at the studio, learning at school, and solitary play time at home. But when Jongdae was ten, he had taken his first life.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but…he actually approached me once,” she said, pausing to exhale loudly, “He knocked on my door, and he didn’t even have to finish what he was saying before I let him inside. You were sleeping on the couch during that time, so we talked in the kitchen. I made him a cup of tea and put a bandaid on his arm. I remember.” 

“What did he tell you about?” Jongin numbly asked even though he could guess.

“I wasn’t surprised when he said he was also your father’s son,” his mother admitted, “I always wondered where your father went for long periods of time. Now I knew. A whole other family, ruined by the same monster.” 

“I know what Jongdae did,” Jongin said, staring into nowhere. If he closed his eyes or kept them open, there’d be no difference. “You hid that from me, but I know.” 

That wasn’t the only thing she had hidden from him, but Jongin didn’t want to pry at the more personal parts of her past if she didn’t want to tell him.  

“When I put that bandaid on his arm, I saw the same bruises on his wrist that I found on mine,” she said. She never explained more, never explicitly told Jongin how she received those bruises. But Jongin still closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly to stop tears from forming once again. “And when he said he had a solution to our problems, I listened.” 

“He told you he was going to kill our dad,” Jongin assumed. 

“I saw someone willing to take away my problems, so I told him to do it. I told that child to kill his own father. Your father,” his mother said. There was a tremor of some emotion Jongin couldn’t name running through her voice. One that made it even more difficult to remain calm, to keep his shoulders still instead of shaking. “And he did. Three days later, the police called to inform me of your father’s death, I knew my part in this, and I knew what I had done to him.”

“Is that all?” Jongin asked, his voice barely a whisper, “Was that the last you saw of Jongdae?” 

“Yes,” his mother answered. “I knew your father would return home drunk later that night, so I ended the conversation and excused myself to carry you up to your room. Until now, Jongdae had never smiled. Not even once. But after he offered to carry you, after you slept soundly on his back, and after we tucked you in and locked your door, he asked for your name. And when I told him, he smiled.”

If Jongin tried to speak, he would have lost it and cried again. But he had cried enough for one day, cried enough for at least a month, so he sat there in silence, only able to listen to what his mother continued to say. 

“I shouldn’t have encouraged him like that,” his mother sighed, “I shouldn’t have let him ruin his own life like that. Who knows where that choice led him…God, I should’ve packed up our bags,  taken you both in my arms, and ran.”

“But you didn’t,” Jongin said, managing to squeeze out a few hoarse words from his throat.  

“I’ve given you all the love I have,” his mother said instead, “I don’t know where Jongdae is now or if he is even alive, but please don’t blame him too much. The fault is just as mine as it is his.” 

“Are you happier?” Jongin asked, his voice a whisper, “Without dad?” 

“Oh, yes,” his mother said without hesitation. Unlike Jongin, her voice had never wavered as she spoke. Maybe she’d had years to practice it in the hopes of telling Jongin one day. Or maybe there was nothing to cry over, no one to cry over at all. “Of course. I can live now instead of just surviving. I can to be honest now, instead of loving lies.” 

“Okay,” Jongin exhaled, “Thank you for the truth.” 

“Of course,” his mother said, letting out a long breath of her own, “I’d always thought you were old enough to know, but I never knew how…how to say it. How did you find out?” 

“Work related stuff,” Jongin said. It technically was the truth.

“Is there anything else?” his mother asked after a slight pause, “Your sisters are flying in this weekend for a visit, so I have to prepare. Do come home soon, Jongin. I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.” 

“I love you,” Jongin said. The words _extermination_ and _the end_ rang in Jongin’s ears, and he surprised himself with the grace and poise he mustered in order to speak those three words. Of course, mothers knew all, so he couldn’t hide anything from her. But he could try. 

“Thank you for everything,” Jongin said. 

His mother paused, and Jongin was sure she knew something was wrong. Slowly, she wished him the same, hesitating for another moment before disconnecting the call. 

After hearing her hang up, Jongin lowered the phone from his ear and remembered he was alone.  

The android deactivated half of the cell’s bars in order to march inside, snatch the phone from Jongin’s hands, and snap it in half. Without warning, the android then shoved Jongin and pinned him to the ground. Jongin didn’t resist, laying there with his eyes wide open, and thought of the life they could’ve lived.   

If his mom had taken both him and Jongdae and run. 

If he had grown up with his older brother and sisters with him. 

If he hadn’t been so afraid to do so many things. 

If he wasn’t a coward.   

But those were all ifs, not even a maybe. Those were absolutes. Absolute paths that would have never happened. Jongin tried picturing those alternate universes where such a fate was possible, such lives were possible, but before he could make much progress, a different voice spoke, capturing his attention. 

“Kim Jongin,” the voice said. If Jongin physically could, he would have curled up and prayed this was a nightmare.   

Jongin didn’t answer, only glanced at the entrance of the cell to find the same woman from earlier walk into the room, flanked by more androids. She gestured at the android above Jongin to stop restraining him, and Jongin squirmed after the weight lifted off his back. 

“Your time has come. This is the beginning of the end,” she said, spreading out her hands, as if that would make Jongin ever get up. “Either you come with us, or we drag you out. No matter what it takes.”   

It took every last bit of courage for Jongin to stand. He kept his back turned to them for a moment, brushing aside the last of his tears before facing them. Channeling Jongdae, he ever so slightly curled his lips and put a saunter into his steps. A little bit of Sehun into his eyes as he lifted his chin and stared coldly at them. He didn’t know where the fire in his chest suddenly came from, but he welcomed it and let it burn. 

“Don’t touch me,” he snapped at the androids, raising a hand out to stop them as they reached out for his arms. He marched past them, and confused between their own orders and the authority in Jongin’s voice, they froze. The woman stared at Jongin for a moment before recovering and nodded, beckoning him to follow her. 

“It was a pity you couldn’t be terminated, Jongin,” she said as they walked side by side through the halls, “If I had my way, you’d be working with me. You’d have great potential as an android.” 

“I like having a human heart, thank you,” Jongin retorted. He walked forwards, no idea where he was going. But if anyone looked at them now, they’d think that he was the one leading the group. Never would they think he was walking to his death. 

“The last moments in someone’s life are the times they are the most honest,” the woman said, grabbing Jongin before he walked too far. Jongin stopped. Watched as she opened the door beside him, and welcomed him inside. 

Unlike his cell, this room was white, containing nothing but a dangling bright light hanging from the ceiling and two chairs separated by a metal table. 

“So rest easy. The truth you speak in your last moments are your best truths,” the woman said, not that Jongin cared or listened. 

The androids then dragged Jongin, shoving him into one of the chairs before ripping his shirt off and clamping a metal cage around his chest. 

“This is a lie detector. Our most sophisticated technology,” she said, tapping at the wall to activate a screen, “All your vitals are monitored here, so he can see every slight inflection, every little lie you tell.” 

He?

“Farewell, Jongin,” she said at last, closing the door behind her.

Jongin took a shaky breath, nothing to do except stare at the monitor beside him. Sure enough, every beat of his heart was reflected on the monitor along with other readings and statistics. 

Jongin looked away, staring straight ahead at the white walls. So this was the end, right? There weren’t any tears left to cry, so Jongin took another breath and considered the end. 

He didn’t want to think about Yixing because it would hurt more if he didn’t actually come roaring in to save him at the last moment. Jongdae and Sehun were probably long gone now, starting that retirement of theirs. His mother and sisters would be devastated after he never came home, but he refused to entertain that thought anymore because he’d die of heartbreak before anyone had the chance to execute him.   

Jongin hummed to fill the silence, wondering what people about to die did. 

They self-reflected, right? Remembered all their shortcomings and triumphs, right? 

If Jongin had to be honest with himself, he knew he could’ve been kinder. He could’ve lived kindlier. But those were his only regrets. He loved everyone in his life with all his heart, so there wasn’t much else he could have done. 

“I’m not scared,” Jongin said to himself. The room and the wall flashed red, and a loud alarm sounded once.

“I’m not scared,” Jongin repeated, frowning as the room turned red again. Jongdae told him to repeat lies until they became second nature, until they became like the truth. But no matter how many times he repeated himself, the room was still red. 

Before he had time to try again, the door opened, and Jongin braced himself for the end. 

He wondered how they exterminated people. Petitioners who won their trials could kill the victim of their petitions any way they liked in court. But how did exterminations actually take place for petitioners who preferred not to get their hands dirty? Jongin swallowed, wondering if they would shoot him in the head right now so he’d never even see death coming. 

But that was before he heard footsteps. When he turned his head to look, the monitor on the wall reflected a change in heart rate. The man stopped to look at the monitor, a wry smile forming on his face as he watched Jongin’s heart steadily accelerate. 

“You know why you’re here,” the Director said as he stood in front of Jongin, “Why you’re facing the end.” 

“No, I don’t,” Jongin said, provoking another red light.   

The Director laughed. 

“What a useful piece of technology, right? This entire room is a lie detector. You can’t hide from me, Jongin,” the Director said, banging the desk with his knuckles. 

“Well what’s the point since you’re going to kill me anyways?” Jongin asked. A frown wrinkled his expression, and he promised himself he would not bend, he would not break. “There are no more tests to pass since you’ve already decided my fate.”

“Society has no place for liars, for cheaters, for criminals who aid other criminals,” the Director said, “And that is why you’re here. Why you will be exterminated as soon as this conversation is over.” 

It could’ve been so easy for Jongin to panic, to scream all the way until the very end. But Jongin would not give the Director that satisfaction and stayed silent, holding his breath as he collected himself. 

“At first I couldn’t understand why you’ve been helping Jongdae and Sehun,” the Director said, pacing around the table. Jongin’s eyes moved from the left to the right of the room as he watched the Director’s movement.

“Then I was informed just an hour ago, that Jongdae was your brother,” the Director said, stopping in front of Jongin, as he shook his head, “Oh, Jongin…Oh, _Jongin.”_   

“Yeah? And what about it?” Jongin dared to ask.

“He’s an assassin,” the Director said, one of his eyebrows twitching at Jongin’s tone and response, “I don’t have to explain the rest. Whoever screened you and performed your background check before you were hired as an A.S.S. agent should be fired.” 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Jongin said, letting out a laugh, “You screened me, you studied my test results, and you hired me. The person who comes from a family of killers. This is your fault, too.” 

“Enough,” the Director cut Jongin off with a glare, “Thanks to you, we’ll have to investigate your mother and your sisters…and when you’re all taken care of, we’ll spend every last-minute hunting Jongdae and his husband, too. Of course, you’ve destroyed all our files on them, but we will start again. And we will not stop until they are both dead.” 

At the mention of his family, Jongin’s heart stopped for a second. As he sat there, wondering if the Director really had the audacity to say that to him, he felt a wave of calm fury, poised rage fan the fire in his heart. 

“If you come anywhere near my family, I’ll fucking kill you,” Jongin promised. 

When the room continued to pulse green, Jongin hid the surprise from his face. Maybe he was Jongdae’s brother after all, if he could lie about killing anyone at any moment. 

“I believe it,” the Director said after a pause, “You carry the blood of a monster in you.” 

“I’ve got the blood of a monster in me, but it hasn’t come from Jongdae,” Jongin said, tilting his chin up, refusing to look away from the Director. He kept an eyebrow raised, as if he was daring the Director to say something more. Come at him. Try him. Try him, bitch. 

“It’s too bad,” the Director said, shaking his head, looking away from Jongin’s intense gaze, “I saw potential in you, Jongin. Someone who followed the rules, who did what he was told. I guess this is what happens when you make your enemies your friends, and when you bear the blood of monsters instead of the blood of legends. 

Jongin stared blankly at the Director, wondering if he would ever even get the chance to die if the Director would continue spouting nonsense like this at him.

“What…do you need me to speak slower? Spell everything out for you? Am I going too fast?” the Director said, raising his tone upwards to mock him, “I said it’s too bad you have the blood of a monster instead the blood of a legend. L-E-G-E-N-D.” 

“You motherfuckers can’t even spell legend properly,” Jongin raised his voice, throwing his head back to laugh. The Director’s smug smile dropped off of his face as he noticed Jongin’s unbothered countenance, his defiantly raised chin.  

“Then how do you spell it?” the Director entertained him, gaze flicking up and down. 

“J-O-N-G-D-A-E,” Jongin said, leaning over as he enunciated each and every letter.

The Director scoffed and turned away. 

“Why you sympathize with the worst people is beyond my understanding,” the Director shook his head.   

“No?” Jongin said, “I don’t sympathize with you, so I don’t understand why you think that.” 

He cocked his head, relishing in the ugly frown that distorted the Director’s face. 

“You’re different than the Jongin I met all those years ago,” the Director said, eyebrows furrowing as he studied Jongin’s expression, “You’ve only been like this for two weeks, but I don’t like it.” 

“I do,” Jongin said. Had he really changed that much in such a short time? 

“Your mother would hate it,” the Director said, “She wouldn’t recognize her idiot son who grew into a cruel monster.”

“Yes she would,” Jongin said, “What’s a mother who can’t recognize their own child? What’s a heart if it can’t identify the only people it beats for?” 

“Your heart is too big, Jongin. That is not good. This is your biggest weakness, and this is why you’re here,” the Director said. 

“I disagree,” Jongin immediately said before the Director could continue talking said. 

“That’s why you’re going to die,” the Director said, checking the time on his wrist. 

“Having a heart is better than having none at all. I think if society was kinder, we would never be in this situation at all,” Jongin said, spitting out everything he had wanted to say since he was forced to sit in that D.O.U.C.H.E. orientation and various other training sessions. “Neighbors killing each other, orphans born daily. People are too scared to walk in the streets because they’re afraid of having a petition filed in their names. And androids. Don’t even get me fucking started on those androids. You’ve stolen their life, their hearts, and their minds, and you’ve forced them to be your mindless soldiers.”

As far as last words went, Jongin would be fine if these were the last things he ever said. 

“The most perfect people don’t listen to the heart,” the Director chided, “That’s why we remove their hearts, why we implant chips into their minds to make them listen to orders and orders only.”

“Then what do you fill that gaping hole in their chest with?” Jongin asked, “What do you pump their blood with to keep their bodies alive?” 

“We replace their human heart with a mechanical one and schedule routine blood transfusions to make sure they are healthy,” the Director said, his words causing Jongin’s stomach to churn unpleasantly, “They’ll live forever like that. Just an android waiting to take commands and orders. None of them die because they are already dead. That’s how it works.”

Jongin slowly observed the Director’s face as he struggled to recover from hearing these truths, and though he already knew the answer, he opened his mouth to ask.

“Why are you even here?” Jongin said, “What’s the point? Why—” 

“I came to look at you,” the Director cut him off, not looking away from Jongin as he continued to speak, “to be the last sight you’d see before you die. Everyone reacts differently, you know. Tears and panic are the most common. Some people do face death calmly, like you. But it always fades at the last second. It’s always that last look of desperation that everyone has…with those wide eyes, that panicked breathing. No one goes gently. Everyone dies violently, clawing at death as its cold hands squeeze their heart. 

“Then look at me,” Jongin said, leaning in his chair as he spoke louder and as he stared the Director, refusing to let him escape his gaze, “What am I, then? Who am I, then?” 

“For you, I think a shot to the heart,” the Director softly said to himself as if he pretended Jongin wasn’t here, “That weak organ of yours needs to be destroyed. 

“Pull the trigger,” Jongin spat, struggling to free himself from the iron cage squeezing his chest, “Pull the fucking trigger and look at yourself in the mirror when you come home. You hate my brother, you threaten my family, but after chasing all the killers in the world, don’t you realize you’ve become one, too?” 

“Bold last words. I must say I’m impressed,” the Director said as he pulled out a handgun. 

If the flames in Jongin’s chest had not escalated and grown into an inferno, Jongin would have absolutely burst into tears, dissolving into a gasping mess as he fought for every last breath before it was too late. But all he could do now was stare at the Director directly in the eyes, wanting this to be the last thing the Director saw when he remembered how he died. 

“Anything else?” the Director said, checking his watch, “You have one minute.” 

“I only need ten seconds,” Jongin said, taking a breath that was more shaky than he would’ve liked. A minute? Only a minute left of all of this? “To tell you to be kinder. Really. I truly think the world would be better if everyone was kind. And even if it doesn’t seem like it, you’ve still got this. Remember?” 

He would have pounded his chest, but could only look down at his heart to show what he was talking about. 

“You’re living. You’re breathing. Make an effort to be kind, and maybe you’d have less children on the streets without parents. Less people filing petitions. Less assassins profiting off of pain. Less people growing up with no trust and no love,” Jongin said, wondering from where all these words had come from. 

“Your point?” the Director said. 

Jongin grinned, and he glanced at the barrel of the gun before staring at the Director. 

“Get your heart on, motherfucker,” he said.

The Director let out a wheezing laugh, slapping his leg as the last syllables of Jongin’s song faded to silence. 

Jongin ignored him, lifting his eyes up to the ceiling and memorizing the way the light looked before he closed his eyes. He remembered what Jongdae said, so he wasn’t even worried. He’d only die when he finally gave up, and he was far from even considering a surrender. He would fight death as long as he could no matter the bullets that were waiting to pierce through his heart. No matter the last breath he would ever take.  

“Farewell, Jongin,” the Director said, raising the gun to Jongn’s head again, “When hell frees you from its claws, let’s meet again.” 

“Bold of you to assume we wouldn’t have already met in hell,” Jongin said, quirking his lips up before he said nothing more. 

He pictured his family one last time, keeping and guarding them in his heart. He lived for love, and he loved for life. And if he loved hard enough, then nothing would phase him, would scare him, would kill him. And now nothing did. 

He didn’t know why he experienced everything in slow motion. Deaths were supposed to be instantaneous, so why he wasn’t unconscious yet after hearing a loud bang, he didn’t know. His eyes flew open at the sound, and he turned around, wondering what had happened. 

Smoke immediately filled the room, circling around Jongin’s feet and concealing the monitor beside them. Was this purgatory? A stream of fire snaked around the walls of the room before lighting the walls on fire, causing the screen to melt. Was this hell? 

Two figures stepped out of the doorway, each wearing black gas masks with glowing red eyes. Jongin started coughing, wondering if those were angels. Violent, vengeful angels prepared to kill for their king. Was this heaven?

But after seeing an angel shoot the Director right in the head, and after hearing a booming voice cut through all the fire and fear, Jongin realized that this was life.

“You chose the wrong fucking kid to pick on, motherfucker.”


	5. Chapter 5

“No. That’s not what happened,” the Director cut him off, causing Jongin to sigh. It was irritating to be stopped just when he was about to recount the best parts. 

Jongin exasperatedly looked into the security camera at the top right corner of the room, straightening up when something abruptly banged against the window twice. 

“That’s not what happened at all,” the Director shook his head. Jongin remained silent because it was better to let the Director say what he wanted to say before he intervened. “How could Jongdae have shot me in the head if I’m still here?” 

“But he did,” Jongin said, tilting his head up. He formed a gun with his fingers and pointed it at the Director’s head. The Director’s scowl deepened at the sight of the fake gun. 

“Oh, he did,” Jongin said, flicking his wrist up before whispering under his breath _bang!_  

“That’s not possible,” the Director said, striding over to the monitor to stare at Jongin’s vitals. 

“It’s green. So I’m right,” Jongin said, allowing a hint of a smile to grace his lips as he watched the Director smack the screen after it refused to turn red.  

“No….no,” the Director said, hitting the monitor again, “You’re not lying, but this isn’t logical. I’m still alive, so there’s no way that Jongdae shot my head, and—” 

“Why don’t we cut straight to the point,” Jongin announced. If he could have folded his hands together and placed them on top of the metal table, then he would have. His tone caused the Director to turn and glower. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” the Director said, remaining by the monitors, hunting for the lie in the sea of truth. 

“I’m only here every year so you can poke and prod me for memories you forgot. Memories you’re missing,” Jongin said. It was such an inefficient method of hunting the truth if you asked him. Didn’t the Director know who he was by now? 

“That’s not it at all,” the Director snapped. His own bracelet flashed red, causing his eyes to widen. He stared at his wrist before slamming it against the wall again. 

Jongin let out a small laugh. It was better to show the Director respect, but after these many interrogations, it was always hard for Jongin. He could breeze through the first part easily, but whenever they reached this part, such a touchy part, he couldn’t help but let a bit of an attitude show. 

“To me, that sounds about fucking right,” Jongin said. 

“ _No_ ,” the Director raised his voice, “You are here because—" 

“You suffered memory loss, and the pieces you remember don’t make any sense. So you haul me into this cramped room every year to confirm or deny your suspicions: that your memories are lies. What have you found so far? Haven’t I been truthful with you?” Jongin said, turning his left wrist over to emphasize the unwavering green light. 

“Yes,” the Director said through gritted teeth, “You have been. But when you say things like that…they don’t make sense. You can’t be lying, so those events actually happened. But those events can’t have happened because I’m still alive, so…” 

On days Jongin was feeling particularly down, not that he had many of those days lately, he’d want to watch a clip of the Director working himself into a frenzy as his logic backfired, as he ran in circles chasing lies that were truths, truths that were lies. What a scene. What a pleasure. 

Before he resumed his narrative of the days past, he checked the monitors that continued to display nothing but green before the smile on his lips blossomed into a smug grin. He watched the Director clutch his head and let out another laugh, pleased with what he had done. 

Lied. 

 

 

ϟ

 

 

“You chose the wrong fucking kid to pick on, motherfucker.”

Jongin hadn’t lied about that. Those words really were spoken on that final hour, that final moment right before he was on the verge of dying. 

But what he had lied about was how many people had truly barged into that room.

Three instead of two. 

And who had pulled the trigger? 

Not Jongdae. 

Not Sehun, too. 

But Jongin didn’t immediately register what had happened, who had done what, because after the explosion, he had fallen to the ground, very aware of the body meters away from him. 

“Were you scared? I bet you were fucking crying.” 

Soon enough, a pale hand hovered in front of Jongin’s head, and as he looked up, he didn’t hesitate before holding it. Taking it. 

The hand pulled him up while another one steadied him when he stumbled. He dusted himself off, smoothed out his clothes, and in the most composed voice possible, spoke.  

“What the _fuck_ took you so long?” he asked Sehun, unaware of how hard he was still clutching Sehun’s hand. Sehun grinned, using their clasped hands to pull Jongin into a quick hug. 

 _“Jongin_ ,” Jongdae shouted, causing Jongin to turn around, only seeing a blur before Jongdae catapulted into him. Jongin hugged him tightly as Jongdae continued to chatter. “If I had known you were—” 

“Save that for later. We’ve got to go,” another voice said. 

The third one. 

Jongin wondered why he hadn’t noticed this third person before. After all, before any of this ever happened, this was the person he gave all his attention to, all his thoughts about. 

“Yixing?” Jongin asked. 

Sure enough, there was Yixing crouched by the Director’s body, fingers pressed to his neck to check for a pulse that wasn’t there. 

“We have to go,” Yixing grimly said without looking at Jongin. It was all business for him always, wasn’t it? He was personal one day, cold another, and his clipped tone caught Jongin off guard, but Jongin supposed he should’ve been used to it by now. 

“Shooting the Director in the head activates a kill switch that sends all active androids to his last position. Those in the streets flock here. Those in the building, well…” Yixing trailed off. He pocketed something small before standing up. 

“Jongin. How are you?” Yixing asked. His expression softened, and he reached out to take Jongin’s hand. 

“Alive,” Jongin said, realizing only now what Yixing had done for him. Who Yixing had killed for him. But Jongin pushed those thoughts aside as Yixing lifted his hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to it. 

“Yeah. I’m alive. Fine. Thanks to everyone here,” Jongin stammered, feeling a violent blush cloud his cheeks. 

“Good, good. Let’s run while we still can, okay?” Yixing asked, waiting for Jongin’s answer. 

Jongin nodded before looking behind him. 

“Are you coming?” he asked, watching Sehun swing an arm around Jongdae’s shoulder as they walked towards them. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jongdae said, sticking his hand in Sehun’s back pocket, “of course. Why the fuck would we stay here with _him_?” 

Jongin glanced at the Director’s body again before turning away. It was never an easy sight to see. 

“It looks bad, doesn’t it?” Yixing quietly asked, peeking out of the doorway, looking for any incoming androids, “But luckily there weren’t any video cameras inside since exterminations like yours are more of an off the books secret they don’t keep records of.” 

“You…” Jongin said, inhaling sharply as Yixing started walking down the hallway, keeping close to the walls, “Won’t you be arrested? Detained? Won’t the Director’s family file a petition against you? You’ll have to tell the truth…They’ll make you talk, and…” 

“Someone’s truth is another person’s lie. And someone’s lie is another person’s truth,” Yixing said, “So I’ll be fine.” 

“I hate it when you do that for no reason,” Jongin said, softening his voice after he remembered androids were expecting them.  

“Let me worry about the consequences alone, Jongin,” Yixing said. Jongin heard a laugh behind him and didn’t bother to check who it was because he already knew. “Don’t worry about it. I’d do anything to keep you alive, and—” 

An explosion sounded behind him, causing Jongin to throw his hands over his head and run faster. He made the mistake of looking behind him, gasping when five androids marched towards them, guns out, eyes flashing red. They fired their guns again, almost causing Jongin to scream. But after no one was hurt, he pulled a Jongdae and opened his mouth. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but why do all of them have shit aim? Is this what taxpayers are really paying for?” Jongin yelled before Yixing pulled him towards the right corridor. Jongdae and Sehun returned fire before following close on their heels. 

Unlike Jongin who still could not find his way through this building even with a map, Yixing effortlessly led them through the hallways, knowing which way to turn to avoid as many androids as possible. Jongin instinctively ducked whenever he heard gunfire, but after looking behind him, it was only Jongdae shooting a lone android before any damage could be done to them. 

Luck and knowledge of the building could only get them so far before they finally ran into a squad of ten androids. Yixing frantically tapped something on his bracelet, causing a clear, blue wall to rise up out of the ground, absorbing the bullets’ impact. Jongin had absolutely no idea that this type of tech was available around the building, and if had known, he wouldn’t have almost gone into cardiac arrest every time he was doing something reckless with Jongdae and Sehun. 

“Can someone pass me a gun?” Jongin shouted, placing his hands over his ears as the androids continue to fire at them. The shield continued to hold, but Jongin didn’t want to stay long enough to see if it ever cracked. 

Sehun tossed him a gun with a grin, nodding as Jongin caught it smoothly before they turned around and retraced their steps, escaping through a different path. There was still a knot twisting in Jongin’s stomach after he remembered who the androids really were, but if they were dead, then they were dead. He could either shoot or be shot, so Jongin gritted his teeth and shot one straight through the heart as they continued to flee. 

The four of them fought well together, so well that none of them sustained any injuries. Sehun and Jongdae didn’t even seem winded after Yixing stopped them at an intersection, pausing to remember which way to go from here. Jongin, on the other hand, bent down and wheezed. 

“So…” he said, struggling to string enough words together at the same time, “How did all three of you start working together?” 

“Four,” Jongdae replied, “Joohyun’s here, too.” 

“Oh,” Jongin said, straightening up as he felt his heart sink, “Where is she? What’s she doing here?” 

Even though he knew. 

“She’s trying to find Seulgi and bring her home,” Jongdae said, “She insisted she could handle her by herself.” 

“Oh,” Jongin said, sharing a long look with Yixing, “Oh, _no_.” 

“Why oh no?” Sehun asked, eyebrows furrowing, “What’s wrong?”

Before Jongin had the time to answer, the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall behind them spurred them onwards again, and though he wanted nothing more than to take a long nap, Jongin forced his legs to move faster. As he ran and occasionally shot at more androids, he didn’t have time to be afraid, too busy thinking of how he or anyone was supposed to break Joohyun’s heart a second time and tell her about Seulgi.   

But he didn’t have much time to do so, and as soon as they rounded the corner, the hallways disappearing to reveal the central area of the ground floor, Jongin saw two figures in opposition. Seulgi attacking mindlessly, Joohyun dodging every attack, unwilling to harm her. Jongin slowed to a stop, pressing a hand over his mouth as he listened to their fight. 

“I don’t want to fight you.” 

“Seulgi…snap _out_ of it.”

“Come on…do it for me?” 

“Why the fuck are you just standing there?” Sehun asked, pushing Jongin as he looked back and fired a few shots at whoever was pursuing them. But Jongin couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stand and watch. Sehun huffed and stood beside him. If Jongin wouldn’t move forwards, then Sehun would stay back and eliminate the threats that rushed towards him. 

Jongdae ran ahead, shouting as Seulgi knocked Joohyun to the floor. Joohyun raised her hands above her head and would have been knocked unconscious were it not for Jongdae who barreled straight into Seulgi and pushed her away. 

“No, _no_ ,” Joohyun said as Jongdae helped her up, “Don’t hurt her!” 

“But she’s hurting you,” Jongdae said, doing his best to comply with Joohyun’s demands, only raising his arms to block Seulgi’s punches, jumping whenever she tried to sweep his feet from underneath him. 

“It’s okay if you hit her,” Yixing announced, walking towards them. He stood in front of Joohyun, keeping his back to Jongin. “She can’t feel pain.” 

Jongin breathed, turning around to help Sehun shoot down some androids before continuing to watch. 

“Of _course_ she can feel pain,” Joohyun shouted at him, “She’s just not herself right now, but whose fault is that?” 

She was a foot smaller than Yixing, but when she drew herself up to full height and shouted at him, expelling all the pain and desperation she hid in her heart, all Yixing could do was hang his head and wait for her to finish speaking.  

“That’s my fault. And I’m sorry,” Yixing said, raising his hands up, “Not for doing my job, but for taking her away from you not once, but twice.” 

“No?” Joohyun said, shaking her head, pushing Yixing so hard he was forced to take several steps back to maintain his balance, “Stay away from her. Stay away from us. You’ve done enough.”

“Joohyun,” Yixing gently said in such a way that made Jongin reach out to grab Sehun’s arm, unprepared for what would happen next, “Seulgi’s dead. She didn’t die from the bullet wound I gave her, but she died after they transformed her into an android.” 

“What?” Joohyun said, the fight leaving her body but the love never leaving her heart. She paused, lowering her fist and repeated herself in a smaller voice. “ _What_?” 

“They took her dead body, ripped out her heart, implanted tech into her device, and made her _that_ ,” Yixing said, gesturing at the android that had been three centimeters away from breaking Jongdae’s nose. “That’s not Seulgi. That’s her corpse the government uses as a puppet for—” 

“You’re lying,” Joohyun shouted, shaking her head after hearing Yixing speak. 

Beside Jongin, Sehun had lowered his gun after eliminating the last android who had attacked from behind. He and Jongin watched in silence as Yixing continued to keep his hands raised, attempting to convince Joohyun of the grim reality. But her heart would not break no matter how many times Yixing tried to shatter it with the truth. 

“You’re lying,” Joohyun shouted again, “ _Enough_. Haven’t you caused enough pain?” 

“I’m not,” Yixing said, raising his wrist in the air to show her that green light, “I’m so sorry, but I’m not. Seulgi is dead.” 

“Well, she’s alive to me,” Joohyun said, raising her own wrist that glowed green, “So who’s lying?” 

Both of them stared each other, neither able to successfully convince the other that they were telling their own truth despite the green on their wrist. 

“Joohyun,” Jongdae shouted, leaping back to avoid a swift kick from Seulgi, “We have to go. What do you want to do? Bring her with us?” 

Joohyun looked at Yixing one last time before she softened her voice. 

“Go ahead without me. I won’t leave her,” she said. But there was nothing else to stay with, no one else to stay for. 

“She might kill you,” Yixing said. 

Sehun silently nudged Jongin forwards, and as they walked towards the others, Jongin looked away from Joohyun’s face, unable to bear looking at the striking, raw emotions contorting her expression. 

“Then so be it. I won’t give up on her,” Irene said with a firm shake of her head, “So on the count of three, give her to me, and I’ll take care of her,” Joohyun announced, “And start running after everything’s done. I don’t want to see you locked up with me in detainment when they eventually come here.” 

Jongdae began to protest, but Joohyun counted to three all on her own. After a striking  _three!_ , she shoved Jongdae away and launched herself at Seulgi, engaging her in combat. Just because she was only a hacker, only tech support, did not mean she was bad at fighting, no. Seulgi had taught her how to fight a long time ago anyways. 

They watched her for a moment, Jongdae and Sehun trying to say final farewells only for Joohyun to interrupt them with a tired _go! Just go! I’ll be fine!_ After hearing a smattering of footsteps echo in the distance, they were forced to leave her, to run before they, too, would be caught once again. 

Her final words echoed through the high ceilings and reverberated in their chests.

 _Enjoy retirement! Send me pictures of your kid._  

At the mention of their future, Jongdae sprinted far ahead, urging them to follow him, to hurry up and run. Sehun easily caught up with his long legs, and Jongin, who wished he danced more and trained more in the past few months, panted and did his best to keep up. 

Luckily, Jongdae and Sehun stopped at the edge of the next corridor, pressing their backs to the wall after peeking through. Unluckily, Jongin was sure they had only stopped because of whatever threat lay around the corner. 

“You led us here?” Jongin harshly whispered after Yixing caught up to them, “So they could detain us?” 

“Now that you have Jongin, you’re letting us rot, right?” Sehun said, holding Yixing at gunpoint. 

“No, no,” Yixing shook his head, not even bothering to raise his hands. He craned his neck to look out into the next hallway, raised his eyebrows, and faced Jongdae and Sehun again. “This is normal. It’s surprising we made it this far without encountering large hordes of androids, but it was only a matter of time.” 

Needing to see for himself what had everyone else concerned, Jongin marched past them and consequently marched right back to the safety of the wall after taking one tiny peek. At least a hundred androids were advancing towards them, and at this rate, they’d meet in a minute. 

“Don’t we need to go…that way?” Jongin asked, pointing towards the direction of the androids, “Because isn’t the exit that way?” 

Yixing nodded, confirming Jongin’s fears. 

“The exit is beyond that corridor. We need to make two right turns past there,” he said, motioning at the incoming androids, “and we’ll be fine.” 

“That’s optimistic,” Jongin said, taking a seat on the floor. 

“We need a plan,” Jongdae said, he and Sehun both plopping down next to Jongin. They huddled together, lowering their guns as they thought. “So let’s say that—” 

“If you sit there like that, you’ll get shot in seconds,” Yixing said, continuing to stand, “Are you telling me that this is really how two elusive assassins work?” 

“Are you telling me that you, a highly trained operative, couldn’t catch us when this is what we do with our spare time on missions?” Jongdae easily shot back, “Anyways, the plan—” 

“The plan is that I’m going to make things right,” Yixing said, beginning to walk towards the edge of the hallway. 

“What? _No_ ,” Jongin said, leaning over to tug at the leg of his pants, “You can’t. You have to stay safe.” 

“Safer is with two assassins?” Yixing said, glancing at their two companions, “No offense.” 

Sehun and Jongdae exchanged a look. 

“Safer is with _me_ ,” Jongin said, his whisper threatening to explode into a shout anytime. The androids were perhaps fifteen seconds away, but he couldn’t care about that now. “How many times do I have to tell you? We’re stronger together. Don’t send me away again.” 

“This is different. This time, I’m sending myself away now,” Yixing said, making no move to sit and join Jongin, “Because there’s no way any of you will be able to fight your way through a hundred of those androids.” 

“Then why even trigger the kill switch? Why go through all that trouble of killing the Director,” Jongdae asked.  

“Putting a bullet through his head is the only way all of us are walking free in the end,” Yixing said, “Trust me.”  

“Can’t really do that,” Sehun bluntly said. 

“I went to you for help with Jongin,” Yixing countered, “and you trusted me enough to come here without knowing whether or not you’ll be detained again.” 

Yixing went to them for help? 

“No, no,” Jongdae shook his head, not bothering to lower the volume of his voice. Jongin was sure the androids could hear them for certain. “You’re wrong. I care about Jongin enough to risk a second detainment, and Sehun cares enough about me to go wherever I go.” 

“The point is,” Jongin loudly said, causing all of them to look at him, “You _can’t._ You can’t just say everything you’ve said, do everything you’ve done…and love me like you do all for you to leave. Again. Why do you keep leaving?”

Jongin thought he had cried enough to last a month, but he should’ve known better when he felt tears again. He stubbornly stared up at the ceiling, determined to not let Yixing see him cry for the second time. 

At last, Yixing knelt by Jongin and clasped his shoulders. 

“Maybe we just live our lives in parallel,” Yixing said. Jongin shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt something stroke his cheek and leaned into it. “Two different people walking different paths side by side.” 

“Then let’s converge at the end of this mess,” Jongin said, finally opening his eyes to gaze at Yixing. “Let’s meet again. Let’s dance together again. Let’s love again.” 

“I’d love nothing more than that,” Yixing nodded, “And you once told me you’d always fight fo me, so this is me fighting for you.” 

He leaned in and stole a kiss before he stood and strode around the corner. Stunned, Jongin touched his lips, still buzzing from the kiss, unaware that Yixing was already gone before he peeked around the corner and realized. As he watched Yixing walk towards the androids with his head held up high, Jongin changed his mind and lunged after him, a scream threatening to tear out of his throat. 

Hands pulled him back and held him so he could only watch from around the corner, his vision increasingly blurring as every second passed. 

Yixing stopped in front of the androids, seemingly unbothered as all of them aimed their guns at him on sight. 

“Identify yourself,” the android said. 

“Zhang Yixing.” 

“Are you responsible for the Director’s murder?” 

“The Director has asked me to take you him,” Yixing said, keeping his voice even and his composure calm, “He is not dead. There has been a mistake.” 

“Mistake?” 

“Mistake.” 

The androids waited for Yixing’s bracelet to turn red, but after nothing happened in the next ten seconds, they lowered their guns. 

“This way. It’s urgent,” Yixing said, pointing as he walked straight without looking back. The androids parted to give him room to walk to the front of the group before closing the gap and swallowing Yixing from view. 

Ten seconds later, all hundred androids turned left and disappeared.  

“Let’s go,” Sehun said, scrambling to his feet. He grabbed his gun and led them forwards, shushing Jongin after hearing him sniffle. They hugged the wall as they crept along, wary of any other enemies. 

Yixing seemed to have led all of the androids in this sector away, as the hallways were empty, devoid of any other guard, android or human. After making two right turns, they were about to open the emergency exit door open before Jongin peered through the window and immediately took his hand off the door knob. 

“No,” Jongin shook his head, “Absolutely not. We can’t go out there.” 

“Why not?” Jongdae asked, standing on his tip toes to peer outside, “Oh. It’s only a few androids.” 

“A _few_?” Jongin harshly whispered, “There’s at least a hundred.” 

He supposed the entire building had been put on lockdown following the kill switch, as androids formed a single file border around the perimeter of the building. There was no way out without passing through them. 

“Easy,” Sehun said, “These ones don’t have red eyes, so they won’t kill us on sight, right? We’ll lie and be right on our way.” 

“But I can’t lie,” Jongin said, eyes wide after taking another look outside, “ _Help_.” 

Sehun raised a hand and sauntered forwards, pushing his shoulder against the door as he twisted the doorknob. Only after Jongdae rubbed his shoulder and encouraged him to walk forwards did Jongin take his first steps outside. Meters away, Sehun tilted his head as he stared an android down. 

“Greetings,” the android said. 

“What’s up,” Sehun replied, “Can we pass through?” 

He hid his gun between his back and pointed behind the android with his other hand. 

“Negative,” the android said, “The Director has been murdered. No one is allowed to leave the premises until we find the killer. After conducting a thorough investigation, it could be you.” 

“ _Nah_ ,” Sehun waved the android’s comment away, “Me? A murderer? _Please_. We’re just trying to pass through. We have permission from the Director to leave the facilities.” 

Jongin grabbed Jongdae’s arm as he listened to Sehun negotiate their way out, and he struggled to breathe evenly.

“You are not lying, but that does not make sense,” the android said after studying Sehun’s green bracelet, “Our system indicates that the Director had been shot in the head. That he is dead. And because he is dead, we have to act accordingly and not allow you to—” 

“He’s not dead, and he most definitely has not been shot in the head,” Sehun said, deadpan. From behind Sehun’s broad shoulders, Jongin couldn’t see how Sehun was staring at the androids, but he imagined he must’ve at least rolled his eyes or let his expression wrinkle with a flash of irritation. 

“You may proceed,” the android said, stepping aside for them to pass through. 

The three of them slowly walked past the androids for about ten seconds before tearing down the street, running as fast as they could. After entering the business district of the city, they slowed down, only speed walking in and out of alleyways and stores to discourage anyone who might have followed them.

After a while, the three of them only walked, hands shoved in their pockets to conceal their guns. They avoided looking directly at any android they passed. Most were still responding to the kill switch, marching slowly towards the Director. Jongin kept his head down, wondering if he’d ever passed by an android made from someone he used to know. Did these android’s families know that they were here like this? Just a hollow husk of what they used to be?

Jongin recognized the path towards the safe house, used to cutting through shady stores, passing through tunnels and secret paths. None of them spoke until they were finally inside the safehouse, and once Jongin shut the front door behind him and leaned against it with a long exhale, Jongdae began pacing around the space. 

“How could you…how could you do all of that by yourself without telling us? We were so _worried_ …I had no idea where you’d gone, and after you didn’t come back, we were out on the streets looking for you for _hours_. And just as I think I’ve lost you for good, I get a call from Yixing who told us you’d been _taken,”_ Jongdae said, finally stopping in front of Jongin. His eyebrows had knitted up, and he stared at Jongin like it was the last time he’d ever see him. 

"I knew it'd be hard for you to destroy the flash drive, so I traded—" Jongin tried to explain himself before Jongdae cut him off with a shake of his head and a snap of his voice.

"You traded yourself for it," Jongdae protested loudly, gesticulating wildly at Jongin. 

"Yeah, but at least your flash drive is destroyed," Jongin said, raising his hands as he defended himself, "I put a bullet through it, so you're free to go now. Both of you. Wherever you want and whenever you want." 

A silence settled into the safe house as Jongdae and Sehun processed what Jongin had said. If Jongin was not emotionally and physically exhausted, he would’ve described the exact way he stomped on the shards and threw whatever was left into the fountain, would’ve loudly told them that he wished they were there to see it, the exact moment the job was finished. 

“Somewhere warm. Somewhere beautiful and far away from all of this,” Jongin said, breaking the silence gently, “It’s all yours now.” 

“Jongin,” Jongdae started to say, his frantic hysteria replaced by a softer, quieter emotion, “We could’ve done it ourselves. There was no reason for you to risk yourself for us. Really. We’re both capable.” 

“Well, the first time you tried to steal the flash drive, how did that go?” Jongin asked, his lips beginning to lift up, “And then the second time I went with Sehun? How did that go, too?” 

“And then you tried it yourself. How did that go, too?” Sehun said, crossing his arms as he stared at Jongin. “You know all the trouble we had to go through to get you back?” 

“And we’d do it again,” Jongdae nodded.

“There’s no need,” Jongin said, “The job is done, the mission completed. You’re both free now.” 

This time, Jongdae and Sehun blinked. Looked at each other. And finally realized the truth of their reality. Jongdae threw his head back to laugh. His eyebrows were knitted upwards again, tears collected in his eyes again, but this time it was all for a good reason, the best reason. He rushed forwards to hold Sehun’s cheeks and press kisses wherever he could reach. Sehun’s cheeks reddened immediately, and his eyes disappeared into little moons as he grinned and swung Jongdae around. 

After Jongdae released Sehun from his grasp, he ran towards Jongin and scooped him up into a tight hug. And even though Jongdae was tinier than him, Jongin still found his legs swinging off the floor. As he laughed in delight, he felt another hand squeeze his shoulder. A pat on his back. And that was enough. 

They sat down on the floor afterwards, bloody clothes, grimy hands, light hearts and all. If Jongin closed his eyes, he could’ve pretended that they were in his apartment, chilling with the TV on beside them. Or maybe they were at an outdoor music festival waiting for the show to start. Or maybe they were picnicking on the sand under the sun, ignoring the people who gawked at the three boys who thought wearing leather jackets to the beach was a good idea.

But this wasn’t anything but a safehouse for killers, so Jongin let out a sigh and asked. 

“Are you leaving now?” Jongin asked, his voice soft. He couldn’t meet their eyes, tracing patterns with a finger on the floor.  

Jongdae exchanged a look with Sehun and nodded. 

“Yeah. There’s nothing else to do here but leave,” Jongdae said. 

Leave here. 

Leave the job. 

Leave you. 

Jongin hated good-byes, hated people leaving him even more. His sisters had left for boarding school when he was seven, his father had disappeared when he was eight, his friends here and there left after high school and college graduations. And Yixing had left him twice. Once three months ago, and another time three hours ago.    

So it was not Jongin’s fault he could not endure another good-bye, could not withstand the emotions a final farewell would give him. Instead, he stretched out this moment, desperately using any excuse he could. 

“Can you drop me off at my mom’s place first before you go?” Jongin asked, finally looking up, “I’ll hide there until this all blows over.”

Jongdae waited for Sehun to nod before he gave Jongin that _yes. Of course._  

“Let’s go then,” Jongdae said as he stood up and brushed himself off before heading towards the stairs, “I’ll check if we left anything behind upstairs and restock guns and ammo.” 

Jongin watched Jongdae skip up the stairs, the melody he hummed echoing throughout the lofty ceilings, and scooted beside Sehun. 

"Thanks for coming for me," Jongin told Sehun, hugging his knees to his chest. 

"No problem," Sehun said, pulling his bag towards him before looking through its contents. "You should've seen Jongdae when he got the call from your...friend? Boyfriend? Ex? You know what I mean.” 

"What was he like?" Jongin asked, ignoring the mention of Yixing. If he thought too much about him and considered where he was right now, he’d cry again. 

Sehun let out a soft chuckle. 

"If he could've reached through the video call to pull Yixing by his collar out of the screen, he would've," Sehun said, "But let's say he was loud, spitting out threats he would act upon and promises he’d keep if you didn’t come back safely.”

"He did that? He said that?" Jongin asked, and out of habit, he asked another question, "Why would he care?" 

After everything Jongin knew, it sounded silly when he spoke those words out loud. And after studying the look Sehun gave him, Jongin knew Sehun thought the same.

“If Jongdae loves you, then he loves you with his whole heart,” Sehun said, disapprovingly flicking his gaze up Jongin’s body one more time before returning his attention to his bag, “I thought I told you that. Don’t tell me that you also have short term memory because wow. Not only are you cursed with a weak—” 

“Why did you come along?” Jongin asked before Sehun could continue.

“Because I go where Jongdae goes,” Sehun said, taking out a few bullets from the bottom of the bag and placing them beside him, “and he goes where I go. Simple as that.” 

“So you didn’t do it out of the goodness of your heart or any regard for me, and if I weren’t Jongdae’s brother, you would’ve sat there and let me choke,” Jongin translated.

"If you must know, I was mildly worried," Sehun said as he lifted a jagged knife from his bag. 

"Wow," Jongin said, elbowing Sehun’s side, "I'm touched." 

"Only because I knew that you'd probably cry the second they threw you in detainment and make all the prisoners uncomfortable," Sehun said. As Jongin scowled and gave him a shove, Sehun grinned. "Just kidding of course." 

Jong paused for a second, noticing the slight smile still on Sehun’s face after he neatly placed two guns in front of him. 

"You ever think that in another life we would've been best friends? That one day I would've invited you home to play video games and that's how you would've met Jongdae? Or Jongdae would’ve brought home the love of his life for a family dinner and that’s how we would’ve met?" Jongin asked. 

Sehun paused, withdrawing his hands from his bag as he glanced at Jongin. There was a strange look on his face, one that made him look his own age. Jongin’s age. It flitted across his face for a moment before fading. 

"Maybe," he said, turning his attention back to his bag as he pulled out at least ten passports and stacked them on the floor. Jongin was sure that if he opened them, they’d all have fake names and fake identities. 

"But that's not how life could ever be," Sehun said, "Not in this society at least. That's not how anything else works. We live the lives we live, and we follow the paths we choose or the only paths available to take. And in this life, we are who we are. There’s nothing we can do to change the past, so I can't say I'd ever imagine us ever being best friends. No." 

"Oh," Jongin managed to say, eyes flicking back down to the ground. 

"But that doesn't mean the next life can't be like that," Sehun shrugged. 

“Okay,” Jongin said as he watched a hint of a smile spread across Sehun’s face. He’d take it. “BFFs. You and me.” 

“Here,” Sehun said, thrusting something on Jongin’s lap, “This is for you…I guess.” 

Jongin looked down, his fingers brushing against something soft. After unfolding it, he realized that it was the maroon scarf that Sehun had been knitting. 

“Sehun,” Jongin said as he lifted it in the air, “ _Thank you_. It’s beautiful.” 

“It was for Jongdae, like most things are, but I think it suits you better,” Sehun said, “Since I’m sure that you’re the type to step out in the cold once and fall ill two seconds later.” 

"Thanks, Sehun," Jongin grinned, ignoring the jibe. He wrapped the scarf around the neck, and rubbed the yarn between his fingers. “It’s so soft.” 

"It better be," Sehun said, "That's premium wool." 

Then he paused and amended his statement.   

"It looks good on you," Sehun nodded, "Wear it often…Or don't. Do whatever you want with it. It’s yours.” 

"I'll wear it everywhere I go," Jongin cheerfully said, wrapping it tighter around his neck, "Even in the summer. Even to the beach." 

"Good," Sehun smiled. 

A few seconds later, Jongdae descended from the stairs with an extra bag over his shoulder. 

“Ready to go?” Jongdae asked. 

Jongin nodded as he stood, offering his hand to Sehun. Sehun dumped all his things back into his bag before taking Jongin’s hand and standing up. 

“Oh wow,” Jongdae said once he noticed Jongin’s new scarf, “Sehun, it’s beautiful. If anything goes wrong, you can always fall back on your knitting.” 

"I won’t need to because we're rich. Filthy fucking rich," Sehun said, swinging his bag on one shoulder before grabbing Jongdae’s bag and hoisting it over his other shoulder. 

After a quick shower, the three walked through the streets looking like the hottest rock stars strutting into a battle of the bands competition that they’d won every year since entering. Sunglasses? Check. Leather jackets? Check. Ripped jeans? Check. Tattoos? Check. At least in Jongin’s case, Jongdae had jokingly applied temporary tattoos to his biceps while they waited for Sehun to finish applying his eyeliner. 

And especially, a Middle Fingers Up For Death attitude? Check, check, and check. 

On these streets, surrounded by other civilians who didn’t care if their wrists were red or green, not a single one of them was afraid, worried about encountering an android or an A.S.S. agent. Minutes later, they entered a car dealership where people with currently red wristbands worked. 

"Are we buying a car since you’re rich?" Jongin asked once they walked deeper into the establishment. He ducked under rusty signs and wrinkled his nose at the red paint that dripped mysteriously from the ceiling. A few rusty car parts lay around, discarded in piles. 

"Even if we can easily afford any car we want, it’s better to be more discreet,” Sehun said, turning up his nose at a filthy oil rag dangling from the rearview mirror of one of the parked cars. 

Jongdae cleared his throat as they pushed through a door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY. 

"What's up, bitches," Jongdae loudly announced as he strutted into the next section of the dealership with his arms spread open, "I need a car. Who wants to hook me up?" 

The mechanic who had been bending over the front of a car took one look at Jongdae and paled, shaking his wrench at him. 

“Oh, _fuck_ no. Remember the last few times I let you borrow a car?” he said. 

"I know, I know," Jongdae said, raising his hands as he approached the mechanic to negotiate, "I _know._ But I'm retiring, so this will be the last time." 

The mechanic continued to hold the wrench out threateningly, glaring at Jongdae as he debated the validity of Jongdae’s statement.

"If I let you borrow a car. Will I get it back?” the mechanic asked.

"Maybe," Jongdae said. 

"Will I get this car back in one piece?" the mechanic asked. 

"Yes," Sehun said, brushing past Jongin to help Jongdae negotiate. “Yes, you absolutely will. No worries. This is our last gig, and you'll get your car back for sure. Look. Am I lying?" 

He dangled his wrist in front of the mechanic who swatted it out of his face. 

"That doesn't mean shit to me," he hissed, "How many times have you said the same thing? Showed me the same green light? And then returned with a wrecked car or no car at all?" 

“Don’t touch Sehun like that,” Jongdae protested, rubbing Sehun’s hand where it had been hit before pulling out his gun, “I’ll take your hand if you do that again.” 

Jongin took one look at the expression on Jongdae’s face and hurried forwards to make sure the dealership wouldn’t have to look for a new mechanic. 

"Hey, hey," Jongin said, stepping between them. He placed a hand on Jongdae's chest held out the other in front of the mechanic. 

"I'm sorry for all the fuss," Jongin apologized, "But we really need a car. All we're doing is driving out of the city. These two are never coming back, so I’ll personally drive the car back to you without a scratch.” 

Jongin must have looked more genuine than the others, as the mechanic crossed his arms and hesitated before speaking.   

"You promise?" the mechanic roughly said, "I can already tell that your word means more than theirs."

"He's a good kid," Sehun said, as if they weren’t the same exact age. 

"The very best," Jongdae said, tousling Jongin's hair. Jongin batted Jongdae's hands away, waiting for the mechanic’s response.

"Promise?" the mechanic cautiously said, "Not a single scratch." 

"I promise I'll return your car to you without a single scratch," Jongin said, lifting his wrist to display the green light. 

"...Okay," the mechanic said, finally throwing his hands up in the air, "As long as I don't have to deal with you two ever again." 

"You're the best," Jongdae grinned, waving his gun around.   

The mechanic eyed the gun, scoffed, and disappeared into his office to grab some car keys. 

“Stop that,” Jongin whispered, pushing Jongdae’s arm down, “Stop pointing that at him.” 

“He needs a little reminder. An incentive,” Jongdae said, though he reluctantly concealed his gun again. 

“He already _agreed_ ,” Jongin protested. 

“Did he ever tell you about the time a mechanic almost shot him while he was returning a damaged car?” Sehun asked. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Jongdae shook his head, “Blame the mark that decided to drive drunk and drive straight into my car before I could take him out.” 

Jongin was spared from saying anything as the mechanic returned and tossed them the keys with a final warning. 

Minutes later, Jongin carefully drove them out of the dealership’s parking lot. Jongdae sat beside him and Sehun behind him, prepared to start shooting in case anything happened. But nothing did happen, at least for the first few hours on the road. No one stopped their car, no one shot at them, and no one even followed them. 

Jongdae had connected his bracelet to the car’s Bluetooth system and blasted rock songs from the speakers, singing as loudly as he wanted. In the backseat, Sehun had taken out his knitting needles and started drumming on any surface he could find. Jongin didn’t know the words to the music but hummed along as best as he could, lowering the windows down to feel the wind whip against their hair. 

But as they approached the border, traffic slowed to a crawl. 

Jongin was scared for what was waiting at the border, and after inching close enough, his worst suspicions were confirmed. 

“Oh my god,” Jongin groaned, gripping the steering wheel tighter after he thought he saw androids in the distance. He rolled his window down completely, cautiously poked his head out, and panicked. “Oh my _god.”_  

“Androids,” he reported, rolling up the window as he slouched in his seat. 

“Move up,” Sehun said, stretching an arm out to poke him, “It’s our turn soon.” 

“Great,” Jongin said, ever so slightly tapping the accelerator, “Just great. I don’t know why I thought we’d be able to leave without any problems, but what I do know is that I’ll get us detained because I’m not a liar.” 

“You’re related to one,” Jongdae said, “You’ve got this.” 

He offered Jongin a thumbs up, but Jongin still felt something twist in his stomach as he inched the car up. After watching the car in front of him escape the androids and drive off in the distance, he swallowed and rolled down the window just a crack as an android approached their car. 

“Roll your window down,” the android ordered as they tapped on the glass. 

Jongin pressed the button once without holding it down.  

“Roll it down more or we wil—” the android started to say before Jongin anticipated how the sentence would end and hastily rolled the window down halfway.  

“State your reasons for traveling,” the android asked. 

“I’m visiting my mom,” Jongin said, holding his breath. Even though that was the truth, he still urged the light on his wrist to stay green. 

“How many passengers are with you?” the android said after a pause. 

“Two,” Jongin swallowed. 

“Identify them.” the androids said. 

Jongdae and Sehun might have had their files wiped, but that didn’t mean that the mere sound of their names wouldn’t set off a nationwide alert. Jongin refused to speak, glancing a Jongdae for help. 

“Question them back,” Jongdae whispered. 

Jongin cleared his throat, coughing a few times before leaning closer to the android. 

“Hey. Quick question. Do you know why you have to stop every car?” Jongin asked. 

“I received orders to do so,” the android said, “No one must pass through the border without passing inspection.” 

“Yeah,” Jongin said, “But do you know…why?” 

“Why is it important for me to know why?” the android said. 

“Why do you do anything without knowing why?” Jongin asked, hearing stifled laughter behind him. 

The android blinked. 

Jongin slid in their escape. 

“Well if you don’t know why and I don’t know why, then let us go,” Jongin said, “We’re all just trying to visit my mom. That’s it. Can we go?” 

The android tilted their head and opened their mouth. 

“Y—” 

The android shuddered before they could finish their sentence, falling silent as a video was projected from their chest. 

“Attention honest citizens,” a robotic voice announced as pictures of Jongin’s, Jongdae’s, and Sehun’s faces were projected, “If you see any of these three men, then stop them. Don’t let them leave. Don’t let them live. If you have any information about them, then tell us. But remember to speak the truth because if you don’t, we will know. We always know. So remember this, dear citizens: truth above all. You die if you lie.” 

“Right,” Jongdae said to Jongin as soon as the video ended, “How good are your driving skills again?”

“I told you,” Jongin hissed as the android blinked, “I don’t even have a fucking permit.” 

“Well, you’re our getaway driver,” Jongdae said, patting his shoulder, “Good luck.” 

Red lines appeared over Jongin’s face as the android scanned everyone inside the car.  

“Identified: Targets from the announcement. You will be ex—” 

That was all they managed to say before they crumpled to the floor. Behind Jongin, Sehun had rolled down the window and fired a single shot. The sound attracted the attention of the other androids in the area. 

“Identified,” they all recited, “K—” 

“Drive,” Jongdae urged as he whipped out his gun.

Jongin didn’t need to be told twice and slammed his foot on the accelerator before swinging the wheel as violently as he dared, gritting his teeth as the car swung dangerously close to a pole. After executing a U-turn, Jongin drove back towards the city, ignoring the cover fire Jongdae and Sehun offered. 

The androids at the border must have alerted agents across the city because as soon as Jongin entered the downtown area, police cars immediately pursued them. Sometimes, Jongin was forced to drive on the pavement after the cars tried to ram into them. As he plowed through red light after red light, he didn’t know who screamed more. The civilians he narrowly avoided hitting or his own self. 

Jongdae and Sehun were silent, neither of them letting out even a curse as they kept their windows rolled down to return fire. Occasionally, Jongdae jerked the wheel to make Jongin turn sharper. Other times, Sehun broke his silence to tell Jongin to shut the fuck up after a whole ten seconds of continuous screaming from his own part. 

And after fifteen minutes of the worst vehicular experience of Jongin’s entire life, they abandoned the car in an empty alley after managing to lose or take out the fleet of police cars that had chased them. Sehun picked the locks of a car nearby before sliding into the front seat, fiddling with the circuits to jumpstart the car. After hearing the engine hum, he gestured for Jongdae and Jongin to climb in. 

“Never again,” Jongin shook his head when he collapsed in the backseat, “Never fucking again.” 

“See?” Jongdae scooted next to him as he secured Jongin’s seat belt for him, “That’s why motorcycles are better.” 

“People can shoot at you more easily if you’re on a motorcycle, love,” Sehun said, peering into the rearview mirror as he smiled. 

“Hey, my favorite ride is actually—” Jongdae began to say as he reached over to pat Sehun’s cheek. 

“Just drive,” Jongin interrupted, “Where are we going?” 

“Where legends are born and monsters rise. Where lost lies live and the truth dies,” Jongdae said, raising his hand in the air before pulling down his third and fourth finger.

 

 

ϟ

 

 

“No,” the Director said, cutting Jongin off again as he pounded the table with his fist, “That can’t be. You cannot possibly tell me it was that easy for you to escape all the androids.”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Jongin asked after a pause. He really hated stopping and restarting his narrative every time the Director felt like he had something unnecessary to say. If he’d been dragged here to give his testimony, was it too much to ask if he could deliver it uninterrupted? “Haven’t I told you what Jongdae and Sehun are capable of?” 

What he, too, was capable of?” 

“And then you’re telling me that after all of this…they played a concert? A _concert?_ While everyone was hunting them?” the Director said, throwing his hands up in frustration, “That isn’t logical. Hunted people hide or fight. They don’t place themselves in front of thousands of people.” 

“Wow. You really haven’t been listening at all,” Jongin clicked his tongue, “Or you’re just really fucking stupid.” 

“Watch it,” the Director snapped in such a tone that made Jongin feel more victorious than threatened. 

“These can’t be part of my memories,” the Director said, clutching his head, “It’s too impossible.” 

“You really don’t remember anything at all?” Jongin asked. How convenient for him. “That’s what happens when your head gets blown off. I guess that really messed with your…” 

He twirled a finger near his own head. 

“My head wasn’t blown off,” the Director said, aggressively pointing at his own head, “It’s still here, still in one piece. The monitors must be malfunctioning if it has not properly detected your lies.” 

He then stormed to the monitor and jammed a few buttons on the screen, causing it to fizzle out. The room plunged into a darkness only barely tamed by the lights of their wristband. While he waited for the Director to reboot the system, Jongin hummed a song underneath his breath. 

“Good, isn’t it?” Jongin stopped after hearing a hiss, “It’s called ‘I Hate You Please Die.’” 

“Shut up,” the Director called from the other side of the room, “Speak only when I tell you to speak.” 

“Uh…At the beginning of this interrogation you ordered me to tell my story, so here I am, trying to—” Jongin said. 

“Every year you grow more insolent,” the Director cut him off, “I hate that.” 

A green circle pulsed in the middle of the screen for a few seconds before the system rebooted, shooting green lights throughout the room once again. The Director waited for the monitor to fully load before adjusting the settings of the lie detector, causing the cage around Jongin’s chest to compress. Jongin could no longer sit up straight as he gasped for air. If he found it hard to breathe back then, he was on the verge of choking now. 

“Continue. What happened next? Don’t leave anything out. If you do, then I will know. I always know,” the Director demanded. 

Jongin couldn’t help himself despite the slow oxygen deprivation. 

“But you don’t know. You don’t know anything at all. That’s why I’m here, right?” Jongin said. 

The Director scowled jabbed the screen, causing a circle to appear. He then pressed four fingers along the circle’s circumference and twisted his wrist. Jongin reeled over, gasping as the device around his chest squeezed his body tighter. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t speak or breathe. 

Something banged at the window three times. Jongin squinted out the window, wondering what that was, but was unable to see anything but his own reflection. The Director hesitated before undoing his command. The cage around Jongin’s chest loosened ever so slightly, enough for him to breathe again.

The Director slowly walked towards Jongin and crossed his arm as he stood right above him. 

“Continue.” 

“Well, you know,” Jongin said after taking a moment to breathe. “There were music and mics, leather and lyrics. Love and loss. The sort of thing you’d expect at any other concert.”

“No,” the Director said, “No, because people died at the concert. That does not happen at every concert.”

“Right,” Jongin said, feeling his heart begin to sink in his chest, “There’s that part about that cruel motherfucker, Death.”

 

 

ϟ

 

 

“I’m surprised to see you here again so soon,” the guard said after they arrived at the stadium and attempted to enter the premises through the VIP door. “Are you here for a gig…or a _gig_?” 

“How fast can you call a crowd?” Jongdae asked instead, taking his sunglasses off his face before tucking them onto the top of his shirt. 

“Fast,” the guard said, “You wanna play now? It’s not time yet.” 

“It’s time when we say it’s time,” Sehun said. 

“All right, all right,” the guard conceded, “But never say I never did anything for you…Now if you would, please lie.” 

“I’m filing for divorce because I can’t stand my husband,” Jongdae lied. 

“I’ve fallen out of love with my husband, and my heart no longer beats for him,” Sehun lied. 

They walked through the gate first, giggling at the absurdity of their lies. The guard closed the gate behind them and looked at Jongin expectantly. 

“You see those guys over there?” Jongin said, jabbing a thumb at Jongdae’s and Sehun’s direction, “I hate them with my whole heart.” 

The guard opened the gate after Jongin’s bracelet instantly changed colors. He joined Jongdae and Sehun as they walked through the familiar tunnels, passing under smoky lights and sticker-studded walls. Along the way, Jongdae and Sehun recruited their band for the night after scouting the talent that hung around the bars and dressing rooms. 

“You’re about to play the best set of your fucking life, and you’re not even ready,” Jongdae said, pushing someone towards the dressing rooms, “Go get changed and come back to play bass with us tonight.” 

“You. Us. Guitar. 15 minutes,” Sehun said, pointing at a young woman they walked past.  

“She’s the best guitarist we know,” Jongdae whispered after she rolled her eyes and nodded, “If we had to pick a permanent line-up, we’d beg her to play with us for sure.”  

Apparently, the guard meant it when he said he could summon a crowd fast, as the backstage crew announced that they would be ready for them in fifteen minutes. The three of them gathered in the dressing room to prepare for the concert. As Jongdae warmed up his voice and Sehun switched the tips of his knitting needles, Jongin rummaged around the drawers in the room, pulling out masks and metronomes. 

Moments later, their guitarists and bassist for the night joined them, causing Jongdae to leap over the couch to greet them with a few fist bumps and shoulder slaps. Jongin settled down on the couch in the corner, listening as the band discussed their setlist for the night. 

“Do you need me to do anything?” Jongin asked after Jongdae and Sehun returned to sit beside them, studying the hand-written setlist together. He felt as if all he had done here was sit and watch two legends at work.

“Just watch us tonight,” Jongdae said. 

“And remember,” Sehun said, tapping his head, “Remember what you’ve seen.” 

“All right,” Jongin shrugged. After being dragged into android fights, car chases, and narrowly escaping death, he was fine with that. 

Fifteen minutes later, when it was time to go, and after Jongin pulled out Sehun’s and Jongdae’s regular masks, all of them walked with the rest of the band towards the stage. They laughed and yelled motivational cheers to encourage each other, but just as the band began to climb the stairs that led to the main stage, Jongdae headed the opposite way, descending downwards instead without another word. 

“Where’s he going?” Jongin asked, stopping in the middle of the staircase as he watched Jongdae continue to descend. 

“I guess he wants to be dramatic today,” Sehun said, nudging Jongin to kepp moving, “Come on. We’ll meet him there.”

“He’s always dramatic. When is he not dramatic,” Jongin muttered, walking side by side with Sehun. He didn’t need to wait for Sehun to lead them through the tunnels, as he was familiar with which way to turn and which path to take by now.  

Jongin hung back by the curtains again, not brave enough to be anywhere near the stage. He could hear the crowd screaming in anticipation and clutched at the velvet fabric.

“Enjoy your last show,” Jongin called out to Sehun.  

Sehun walked backwards, saluting Jongin with his drumsticks before turning around and running on the stage. 

Jongin peeked out of the curtain, watching as Sehun’s body was illuminated by bright lights. The other musicians had taken the stage, standing tall and clutching their instruments as the crowd screamed in greeting. Jongdae was nowhere to be seen, but Jongin didn’t wonder where he had gone. If there was music, if there were lights, and especially if there was Sehun, then Jongdae would be here. 

Without warning, Sehun counted off the beats to the band’s first song before launching into a punchy rhythm, accompanied by a sick bass line and syncopated guitar chords. After a lengthy instrumental solo, a single spotlight shone the stage, anticipating Jongdae rising out to meet the crowd on an elevated platform. He’d taken off his leather jacket and bared his biceps and tattoos to the whole world. 

“Who’s fucking ready to go wild tonight?” he screamed into his mic, “Like it’s the first time, the last time, let’s go!” 

With that, the crowd roared in response, obliging Jongdae as they waved their hands in the air, giving him that sea of blood he always asked for. Jongdae sang his heart out, jumping on the platform without being afraid of falling off the side. 

Jongin didn’t hesitate this time and closed his eyes, dancing to the rhythm of the drums, swaying his arms to melody of Jongdae’s singing. One of his ballet teachers told him that average dancers reacted to the music, but exceptional dancers recreated the music with their body, reinterpreting dissonance with sharp turns, slurs and grace notes with graceful twirls and pirouettes. 

And that was exactly what he did. 

He listened to the music and let the heavy beats manifest into twirls and swaying of his hips here and there. There was no style, no strict ballet or modern dance he followed, only dancing to however the music demanded. However his heart felt. And sometimes, all he did was jump up and down, pumping his fist in the air, screaming as the chorus crashed upon the crowd. 

The band burned through a few songs before it was time for opening greetings. Jongin opened his eyes at last, standing in place as the last notes faded into nothing. After joking with the crowd and giving each of the musicians a chance to say hello, Jongdae waited until the crowd shushed before he made an announcement. 

“This is our last concert,” Jongdae declared, running a hand through his hair. The crowd stayed silent before they protested, screamed their dissent.

“But this isn’t our requiem,” Jongdae firmly said, raising a hand to calm the crowd, “As long as we’re still alive, you’ll hear from us one day again.” 

The crowd continued yelling in response, tears mixed in with the wailing, crying with the shouting. Despite the cacophony, Jongdae caught a whisper, picked a single voice out of the crowd and laughed. 

“Us? _Die_? Yeah…it’s so easy to die, don’t you think?” Jongdae said as he walked around the stage to interact with the crowd, “A hundred different things told me to choke a thousand different times this week, but do you know what I did? I lived, bitch.” 

The crowd roared in response, sounding like they had sounded before the announcement. The tears and shock were placed on hold, and they laughed when Jongdae laughed, screamed when Jongdae demanded their voices. 

“It’s so hard to live, so much harder to survive,” Jongdae shouted so loudly that Jongin didn’t know how he hadn’t lost his voice long ago “So if you’re out there, if you’re alive put your hands in the air and let me hear you!” 

Sehun struck the bass drums as the crowd screamed in response. And with that, Jongdae nodded, laughed, and jumped into the next song. 

“Alright this next one’s called ‘Middle Fingers Up’ or…as I like to shorten it…’Fuck Death And All Its Friends.’ If you know it, let me hear you,” he said before Sehun counted them off.  

This song had a longer instrumental intro, and as Jongdae waited for his cue, he jumped around the stage and headbanged, causing the crowd at the barrier to copy him. Jongdae truly owned the stage, and as he sang, every look captured the crowd and every note burned every heart in the stadium. If there was a chair on stage, even a tiny stool, Jongdae could sit there like it was his throne. 

When the rest of the instruments abruptly stopped to let the guitarist play a fast-paced solo, Jongdae ran up the stage, pulled Sehun in for a long kiss, and smirked at the crowd after they broke apart. This time, he stayed by Sehun instead of running over to the front part of the stage, hand on Sehun’s back as he sang the rest of the song. 

“We’re living right now,” Jongdae said once the song finished, “That’s what it’s all about.” 

But Jongdae then squinted, placing a hand over his forehead, staring out into the crowd. Curious, Jongin stepped out of the curtain, wondering what Jongdae had seen. The crowd began murmuring, some screaming near the back, and after Jongin recognized the shapes that had stormed through the back of the stadium, he froze. But Jongin knew all Jongdae was doing was debating between hopping into the pit to start throwing fists or grabbing his gun to pick off their unwanted visitors. 

Androids. 

Somehow, they had been followed, or their luck had finally run out. Androids burst in through every exit, engaging the first human they saw in a fight. But this crowd did not cower, did not edge away from the androids. No, this was a crowd who had been listening to Jongdae’s words, who had been interrupted right in the middle of their concert. So Jongin watched as the crowd fought back, hurtling themselves as the androids and attacking them with anything they could find. 

Then, from the crowd, near the barrier, someone shouted. 

 _Can we get some fucking music or something?_  

Jongdae obliged their fans, signaling to the band to play some mood music, some mosh music, some murder music fit to be the backing track to the chaos and fights that broke out across the stadium. As Jongdae sang, he kicked an android that had climbed on stage and charged at him. While the other musicians could roam the stage and dodge the android attacks as best as they could, Sehun was forced to stay seated, stubbornly continuing to drum even as androids began approaching him. 

Jongin ran out from backstage and engaged an android reaching for Sehun’s neck.

“Have a heart won’t you?” Jongin shouted above the music, slamming a metal rod he had found back stage on the android’s head, “There’s a concert going on.” 

These androids were not interested in killing them, for now at least, and they only continued climbing onto the stage, backing the musicians together, caging them in until they were completely surrounded. Sehun finally stood, changing his drum sticks back into needles, causing music to abruptly die. 

The band stood, back to back to offer defensive protection from all angles. As long as the androids weren’t armed, then Jongin was not afraid of fighting his way out. 

But that was before one android stepped forward, blankly staring as it projected a holographic video call from their chest. 

After the call connected to reveal a familiar face, Jongin’s blood ran cold. 

Though there were some dead people he wished could come back to life, there were others that he wished would stay dead. 

And this person was one of them. 

“You’re alive?” Jongin blurted out. 

“This is a hologram to mess with our minds,” Jongdae shook his head, “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe you.”

“We saw you die,” Sehun said, “You were shot in the head.”

The figure on the screen smiled. 

“Oh, yes. I’m still alive,” the Director announced, “Very much so. And after everything I’ve been told, you should expect your own deaths shortly, too.”

 

 

ϟ

 

 

 

“I was there?” the Director said, staring into the distance as he considered Jongin’s words. 

“Yes. You don’t remember?” Jongin said, letting out a sigh after he had been interrupted again. He wondered how long they had been here. The Director wasn’t kind enough to hang a clock in the room or inform Jongin how much time they’d wasted here, but Jongin expected it had to have been at least twelve hours.  

The Director shut his eyes and turned away from Jongin. Jongin waited, staring at the Director’s back. This was not the wisest time to speak, as it was imperative for the Director to make conclusions on his own, to remember what had happened all on his own. 

“Yes…” the Director said, snapping his fingers as he turned back to face Jongin, “It’s coming back. But this doesn’t look good for you, Jongin.” 

“Oh?” Jongin asked, “What did you remember?” 

“If I was there, then I couldn’t have been shot in the head,” the Director said, pointing at Jongin as he spoke, “You realize what type of a story you’re trying to write, right? None of this makes sense.” 

Jongin raised an eyebrow. 

“But it is possible,” Jongin said, “Considering who you are.”

 

 

ϟ

 

 

“Yes, I am alive,” the Director said. Jongin leaned closer to listen, as the Director’s voice was almost completely drowned out by the fights around the stadium. “I am both alive and not.”

“How?” Jongin asked, “I watched you get shot. Your brains were blown out.” 

“It is entirely possible,” the Director said, “because I am an android. The first android of all time. Usually prototypes are the weakest versions, but I am the original, the prototype, the superior model.” 

Jongin’s jaw dropped, and he was unable to muster any verbal response or do anything except stare. How could an android lead a department? A whole branch of government? He couldn’t fathom it, and he shook his head as he stared at the Director’s image. No. Impossible. 

“So you’re telling me androids live forever,” Jongdae said, “Because I’m not sure how else you would’ve recovered from just how badly that bullet fucked up your head.”  

“Well,” the Director said, “It’s complicated, “But in a way, yes. The hearts we transplant in androids are made with the finest technology. They’ll never stop beating unless we send a deactivation code.” 

“So you’ve literally got nothing in your head but bolts and gears, and nothing but jagged wires and a few in your heart,” Sehun said, “How do you live without love?” 

“Just to summarize…” Jongin said, struggling to process this new information, “You’ll never die?” 

“My consciousness will live on, and if, in a rare case, my body is destroyed, like how you recently did, I will be remade easily,” the Director said. 

“I just want to know why you had the option of reconstructing your face and yet you still chose to keep the same, uglyass one you have right now,” Sehun said. Needles were not his weapon of choice against the Director, so he shoved them into his deep back pockets and pulled out a gun. 

“Monsters live forever. What can I say,” Jongdae said, staring at the Director.  

“False,” the Director said, “Monsters like you need to be put down, which is why I’ve placed a bomb in the concert hall. Death blast. Charges everywhere. If the blast won’t kill you, the shrapnel and toppling debris will.”

 

 

ϟ

 

 

“Did you really have to do that?” Jongin asked.

This time, he was the one that tore them out of the past and cut back to the present. 

“Do what?” the Director said, almost taken aback by Jongin’s question. 

“Did you really have to place all those bombs there? There were innocent people, innocent civilians there,” Jongin said. 

“Their bracelets were all red, so those were not innocent people,” the Director said, “That is to be expected since they came to see Jongdae and Sehun. They’re liars. All of them. People like that shouldn’t live.”

“Sometimes a lie and the truth are the same,” Jongin said, “People believe what they want to believe or what they’re told over and over again…and by making your version of the truth the only truth that matters, you’re suffocating everyone else who doesn’t agree. I think most people just want the right to choose between telling the truth or not. Isn’t it better that way? To live for ourselves instead of listening to petitions and lie detectors?” 

“This was three years ago,” the Director said, “I’m afraid that your version of thought hasn’t caught on, Jongin. Look what we still have.” He raised is wrist and pointed at his bracelet. 

“Society’s loss,” Jongin shrugged, “As long as you have rules no one agrees with, there will always be those who’ll say and do something about it.” 

“You know what we do to people like that?” the Director said, not waiting for Jongin’s response before he continued, “We put them down. If they’re lucky, their bodies will be used as android hosts. If not, then they’re dead for good. It’s what we did to everyone at the concert after all.” 

“Tried,” Jongin corrected, “What you tried to do. Not everyone died that night.” 

“But the ones who mattered did,” the Director said, causing Jongin’s throat to tighten. 

 

 

ϟ

 

 

Back at the stadium, in the middle of stage surrounded by androids, Jongin felt something press against his hands. As he continued listening to the Director drone on and one about how apparently catching them and exterminating them would be the greatest triumph of his career, Jongin glanced down and took what was offered to him without asking. 

Beside him, Jongdae looked at him meaningfully nd nodded before opening his mouth and doing what he did best. Talk. 

“Hey,” Jongdae said, cutting off the Director before anyone else was forced to listen, “I want to know why you’re still coming after us. Like…Was this all really necessary? You’re sending a whole army of androids after two people? Aren’t there wars to end? People to feed? Children to care for? Like…what the fuck.” 

The Director’s smile widened.

“You made it personal by blowing my head open and stealing my flash drive,” he answered. 

“That was your own fault,” Jongdae said. 

“I would’ve done its sooner if I had the chance,” Sehun said. 

As Jongdae and Sehun continued taunting the Director, Jongin covertly looked downwards again, turning the flash bomb upside down so he had easy access to the trigger. No one told him what was the signal, what the last moment before the bomb blew up would be like, so Jongin stayed alert and prepared himself for the cue. 

But the problem was that Jongin mistook anything for a cue, so when Jongdae looked at him and slightly inclined his head, Jongin pulled the trigger and threw the flash bomb at the androids. As it exploded and sent the androids stumbling back, the three of them raced off the stage and down the steps before tearing down the twisting and turning tunnels.    

“We need to get out of here,” Sehun said, “the car’s—” 

“But the people,” Jongin said as they raced through the tunnels, “They’re still out there—”

“Singing. Hear them sing,” Jongdae said, screams continuing to echo loudly even as they ran deeper and deeper into the underground labyrinth of the stadium. 

“We have to let them know about the bomb,” Jongin said, “Does your mic still work?” 

Jongdae tried to tap the mic and speak into it, only to find it dead and useless. He shrugged, dropped the mic, and pulled out his gun instead.   

“We have to find the bomb and disarm it,” Jongin said between labored breathing. He’d have to start working out again regularly after he survived this. “I think I know how to disarm them, but do you know, too?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun said, not even winded as he ran beside Jongin, “But it’s easier just to run away.” 

“But…I don’t want so many people to die,” Jongin said, slowing to a stop to breathe. He could only run so long before he had to stop. “I guess that’s the difference between you and me, Sehun. Sometimes it won’t hurt to care for other people.” 

Sehun rolled his eyes. 

“Yes it fucking will if we’re not out of here in time,” he said, though he stopped and waited for Jongin to catch his breath, “There are times to care, and other times to worry about yourself. Guess what time it is now.” 

“Yeah, but we won’t die even if we stayed to help,” Jongdae said, “It’d take more than a bomb to send us to the grave.” 

Sehun nodded.

Their confidence was almost absurd at this point, with a bomb hidden somewhere around the stadium nowhere in sight. 

“Listen,” Jongin said, straightening as he recovered, “Death can break those people with a single snap of his fingers. Since you won’t even turn around when he taps on your shoulder, why don’t you help?” 

“I _was_ going to help,” Jongdae protested, lips beginning to form a pout, “There’s no need to be poetic about it. If you want to help them, then I’ll help you. I’m staying not for them, but for you. Are you staying, too, Sehun?” 

“What do you think? It’s not I’d ever leave without you,” Sehun said, crossing his arms over his chest as he huffed. “I swear…really it’s always you that slows down our plans, Jongin. I was supposed to be retired by now. In a simple big house sipping lemonade by now. Sleeping with Jongdae in the middle of our big bed f—” 

“Okay, okay I get it,” Jongin said, raising his hands, “Sorry I’m such a bother and a plan killer.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Jongdae smiled, “Is there anything I wouldn’t do for you, too?” 

Sehun let out a very long sigh as he continued staring at Jongin. Every second they wasted arguing here was another second they could spent looking for the bomb. 

“I mean…You’re family, so we’ll stay…I _guess_ ,” Sehun flatly said, “So if you want to play the hero and the fool at the same time, here’s your stage.” 

If he had the time to do so, Jongin would have grinned and pulled Sehun into a tight hug. But there wasn’t time for that anymore, for anything but frantic searching anymore. They were unsuccessful after searching the first few rooms they passed and checking all the structures and columns they ran under. 

“We can’t search this whole place in time,” Sehun complained after they exited a practice room with no luck, “It’ll explode before we find it.” 

“Then…what can we do?” Jongin asked, “To narrow down the search?” 

“If the bomb is triggered wirelessly or at least connected to the android’s network, then maybe…I can pick up its frequency and find which section of the stadium it’s in.” 

“Then…do it?” Jongin urged Jongdae, “You should’ve done this in the first place?” 

“He wouldn’t have to if you listened to me and run. We could’ve been in the car right now, driving far away from this,” Sehun shook his head. 

Jongdae was not Joohyun, so instead of tracing the bomb’s signal in seconds like she would have done, it took him minutes. 

“I found it,” Jongdae said at last, “I’ve even snagged the stats…and the status of the timer,” 

“How much time is left?” Sehun asked. 

Jongin paled and felt his heart stop as Jongdae answered. 

“Ten minutes.”

 

 

 

ϟ

 

“You haven’t grown attached to them, right?” the Director asked, striding towards the monitor to check Jongin’s pulse once again. “After everything, you still, above all, know that fundamentally Jongdae and Sehun deserved to die?” 

“Of course they’ve done many terrible things,” Jongin said. He looked around the interrogation room, wondering if it was just him who felt that the walls were slowly shifting and getting smaller and smaller every hour. Every minute. “You’d be blind if you didn’t understand that they’re terrible people…but we should blame the broken system before blaming the people the system broke. And I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t understand their hearts.” 

“And you’re not. Lying,” the Director said, checking Jongin’s vitals on the screen. 

“No. I’m not,” Jongin said, “I think if we understood what everyone’s hearts beat for, what everyone’s hearts yearn for, then maybe more people would be kinder.”  

“So you’ve grown soft,” the Director said, “weak. You’ve grown to care for them. Tell me I’m wrong.” 

“I don’t care for them at all,” Jongin shook his head. 

“You don’t like them?” the Director said. 

“I hate them,” Jongin said. 

“And never once in the time you knew them, ever considered loving them?” the Director said. 

“I don’t think anyone could love them except for themselves,” Jongin said. 

The Director stared at the green light before he nodded once. 

Jongin breathed. His mother had always said she was lucky he looked more like her than his father, that he was more like her than him. But if only she knew that both he and Jongdae shared the same gift, the same inheritance from their father. The ability to lie. 

“Aright then. If you don’t care for them, then skip to the ending,” the Director said, slamming his fist on the table, “The ending of all of this. Tell me what I expect. Confirm what I know.”

“The ending?” Jongin said, the bit of bravado finally cracking. His smile slipped from his face, and he knew if he didn’t control himself, tears would start to slip on his cheeks, too.

 

 

ϟ 

 

 

“Shouldn’t we just leave?” Sehun shouted as they broke out into a sprint, Jongin leading the way to the bomb. Jongdae wasn’t skilled enough to trace the exact location of the bomb, but at least they knew which section of the stadium to look through. “Ten minutes? There’s still time to run. Where did we park? We can easily take the car and go.” 

Jongin didn’t immediately acknowledge Sehun’s suggestion, running into a room and throwing open desks and drawers in an attempt to find the bomb before he ran back outside. 

“No,” Jongin shouted as he looked in a rehearsal room next, finding nothing but guitars hanging from the ceiling and basses carefully resting in the stands. “Think of all the civilians. They’ll never make it out in time, and they’ll never see it coming.” 

“Okay, but we can,” Sehun said. All this time, Jongdae was silent, following Jongin wherever he ran. 

“I’m staying,” Jongin stubbornly insisted, “I’m not asking you to stay with me, but I know I can disarm the bomb when we find it.” 

Of course, his bomb skills were theoretical, as he’d only read numerous books about them but never practiced. And in such a sensitive situation, he had no choice but to believe that he could. 

“But…what have they ever done for us?” Sehun glumly asked, reluctantly continuing to follow Jongin and Jongdae, “It’s not like they’d do the same if they were in our place.” 

“Maybe not, but we can’t just let thousands of people die. Not when we could do something to stop it,” Jongin said. He should’ve realized it by now, but too much heart was his problem once again. Too much heart for people who didn’t know him, who would absolutely not return the favor like Sehun warned. 

Too much heart was also Jongdae’s problem, but unlike Jongin who cared about too many people he didn’t know, Jongdae cared too much for the only people he knew. 

“If you’re staying, then I’ll stay. Someone has to look after you,” Jongdae said, “God knows I should’ve done this for your whole life.”

Though he hesitated before, Sehun didn’t even blink as he spoke next. 

“Then I’ll stay, too,” Sehun said with a single nod, “I’m with you until the end, Jongdae.”

“That’s going to be such a long time,” Jongdae said, touching Sehun’s arm as he smiled, “Since we have no end. You okay with that?” 

“Of course,” Sehun smiled. 

“This is nice and all,” Jongin said, wondering why they had time for this when they were minutes away from blowing up, “But there’s a bomb, and I don’t know how much time is left. Can you help me find it?” 

With Jongdae’s and Sehun’s help, Jongin moved faster, able to search three times the rooms in the same amount of time. But his search for the bomb was unsuccessful. There were only folders and boxes here and there, a storage cabinet containing nothing but alcohol for the bar. 

After they opened their thirtieth door to find no bombs or anything even remotely related to the situation, Jongdae and Sehun exchanged a glance that Jongin didn’t notice. 

“We haven’t tried this dressing room,” Jongdae said, walking into a room Jongin was certain he had already checked. But maybe there was something he missed and entered the room, looking under desks and couches before Jongdae opened up the cabinet drawers and noticed something.  

“Oh, look. Is this it?” Jongdae asked, placing his hands on his hips. 

Jongin raced over, peering over the drawer, his eyes widening once he realized. He never worked in bomb squad because he clearly did not possess the composure under stress that was required for the job. But he could easily tell just by glancing at it that it would do some damage if they were still here trying to clip its wires without crying. 

Jongin stared at the tangled mess of wires and flashing numbers, not sure what to do.

“Is it bad to touch bombs and move them around?” Jongin said. Thy hadn’t covered this in the manual. Just whether or not to cut the blue or yellow wires, which was useless here since all the wires were red. 

“Generally, if you want to stay alive, I’d suggest you to stay as far away from any as possible,” Sehun said, reaching out to grab Jongin’s hand to pull him backwards from the bomb. 

“But. If I touch this and move it, will it explode?” Jongin asked. He continued peering down at the bomb, wondering what he could do to help. 

“No,” Jongdae said, bending down to examine the bomb, “Not this type of one. Why?” 

Jongin took a deep breath, straightened up, and smiled at Jongdae and Sehun. Tried to memorize their faces. How they looked. Punk from the beginning, punk to the end. But this wasn’t just about them, and he had to think about the people outside, too. 

“I just want to say...” Jongin said, slipping his hand out of Sehun’s, “I really hope you enjoy retirement. Enjoy your life and live it as loudly and lovingly as you can.”

With that, he hugged Jongdae and Sehun before they could say anything in response and snatched up the bomb, reveling in how much lighter it was than he thought. He turned a deaf ear to the shouts of his name and ran onwards, sprinting straight for the exit. If he stopped to listen, he’d stop forever and turn around. He knew it. And then they’d all be doomed. Miraculously, he managed to make his way through the tunnels without encountering the androids. After bursting out of the stadium, he threw the bomb in the back of the car and drove as far away from here as he could. 

He tapped his bracelet and synced it to the bomb’s timer. 

Three minutes to go. 

He could do this. He could drive the bomb far enough away from everyone to prevent mass casualties. 

At the possible cost of his own self.

Oh, he was alive. Excess adrenaline and life coursed through his veins and squeezed his heart, and he stared at the road with wide eyes, keeping his foot firmly pressed on the accelerator. 

His wrist buzzed three times in a row, signaling that someone was attempting to video call him. Jongin didn’t have to look at the caller id to know who it was and picked it up after five rings. He looked away from the road for a second, ignoring the bridge looming in the distance as he glanced at the two figures projected out of his bracelet. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Jongin said, gripping the knuckles tightly as he refocused on the road, “There’s still time. I’ll drive this into the ocean off the bridge and jump out at the last minute. The waves will catch me.” 

“Jongin…”

Jongin refused to look. If he looked, he’d slow down, he’d stop, and he’d cry. And he’d remember. If he did any of those things, then he’d lose focus and risk more people around the perimeter. 

“Jongin?” 

Jongin gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on the horizon. Options…options…The oceans on the side of the bridge were inaccessible, closed off by thick, glass walls. He’d never be able to shatter it in time no matter how had he tried. But there was a patch of land on the other side of he bridge, and as he drove closer and closer to it, his plan was clear. If he could make it there in time, he could drive the car straight off the cliff and into the ocean where the bomb would detonate safely.  

“ _Jongin_.”

Jongin finally glanced at the two people on his wrist and finally felt the panic and hysteria suffocate him. He didn’t want to be torn to smithereens in such a way that there wouldn’t be a body for his mother to bury, _no_. And after everything he survived? To be taken out by a faceless bomb rather than falling in a fight? 

“You’re too selfless,” Jongdae said, “And for what? People who don’t deserve you?” 

“The crowd…all those people can’t die,” Jongin shakily said, “You can’t die either.” 

“I’m flattered, but you really didn’t need to do this,” Sehun said. 

“Don’t talk like that,” Jongin shook his head, “I have to. Just…just stay alive. Promise me you’ll stay alive after all this.” 

“We will,” Jongdae said, “No matter what. Don’t worry, Jongin. Worry about yourself. Live and love for yourself, too, okay?” 

A minute left. 

Maybe Jongdae and Sehun’s absurd luck had rubbed off on him, as Jongin managed to make it to the end of the bridge and parked on an overlook guarded only by fragile wooden gates. Would there be enough time to survive? It was easier to be resigned to death, to close one’s eyes and be at peace with whatever was to come. But it was dangerous to hope, dangerous to fight time itself, and especially dangerous to struggle in the last seconds of complacency and decide to live after all.  

“I think I still have time?” Jongin dared to optimistically say, slamming the car door as he hurried out, “So let’s not talk like that. Forget it. I’ll look for something to weigh down the car, and I’ll send it into the ocean. Then everyone can walk away from this, and we’ll all have all the tomorrows to look forward to.” 

“I don’t think that’s quite possible,” Sehun said. Jongin glanced at the screen, finding Jongdae and Sehun tightly hugging each other. Jongdae pressed his head to Sehun’s chest, and Sehun wrapped his arms around Jongdae’s waist and rested his cheek on the top of Jongdae’s head. It seemed like they were swaying, were dancing…but to what music? Jongin couldn’t hear anything, not a single hum or sigh, so the music must have been heard only to themselves, only inside. 

“It is possible,” Jongin stubbornly said, distracted by the sight of them, “You said it yourself. It’s so hard to live, but I’ll live for you. I’m staring at death in the eye right now, and I’m telling him to fuck off.” 

He wouldn’t go without a fight, and with thirty seconds left on the timer, Jongin would remember this day as the day he raised his middle fingers up in the air, both for death, both accompanied with curses uttered for as long as he could hold his breath. This was metaphorical, of course, because if he took the time to raise his fingers and scream off the cliff, there would be no time left.

Jongin searched the car for anything he could use to weigh down the accelerator. A brick would’ve been ideal. A square bowling ball would’ve been nice. But who kept those things in their car? Who carried them around at all? 

Jongin knew he was running out of time, but he refused to panic even as he felt death’s spindly fingers tapping his back, waiting for him to turn around. It was getting harder to breathe, and Jongin stared at the bomb, watching the numbers on the timer as he debated his options.  

Then everything clicked.

Jongin fell back onto the dirt ground and clutched at his head. 

“No,” he said, staring at the numbers. Those red numbers.

How could he have missed it?

Missed something so obvious? 

“ _No_ ,” Jongin said, a sob heaving his chest and causing his shoulders to shake. He let out a scream before collapsing to his knees, devastated with the realization. 

“You can’t…” Jongin said, scrambling over to the trunk to take a closer look. The numbers were counting down alright, but in an irregular way. The wires didn’t seem to be even connected to any explosives, and he’d seen this…he’d fucking _seen_ this before. 

“Please don’t tell me you let me take the wrong thing,” Jongin said, shaking the device after finding it wasn’t even a bomb at all. Just a prototype metronome that adjusted the tempo to how fast or slow the musicians played. 

Which meant that the actual bomb was still at the stadium, and Jongdae’s and Sehun’s getaway car was here. Miles away.

“Stop it,” Jongin shouted, turning away from the metronome as he clutched his wrist. He shook it, begging them to run, but Jongdae and Sehun only continued to stay in place, holding each other. “What are you doing? Get _out of there_. There was still time…What are you doing?” 

“Where we’re going…I think it’ll be a trip of a lifetime. Somewhere beautiful, but not more beautiful than Sehun,” Jongdae said, tilting his chin up to look at Sehun with starstruck eyes. 

“Somewhere warm,” Sehun said, tenderly touching Jongdae’s cheek, “Bright. Somewhere away from all of this.” 

“There has to be more time…” Jongin shouted, “You can’t…you can’t just walk into my life one day and leave the next after everything? You have to stay _alive_. Where’s your fight? Where’s the bite? Your hunger…your appetite for life? You said you’d stay alive for each other, but why aren’t you resisting? Why are you walking into death with open arms?” 

“Both my arms are for Sehun, so death will have to wait in line,” Jongdae said, tightly clutching Sehun as if he were drowning, “And come _on_ , Jongin. Have we not taught you anything before? A few bullets won’t stop us. A knife to the chest? Please. Both of our chests have been carved up, and we have the scars to prove it. Nothing can stop us from living or stop our hearts from loving, so what makes you think a bomb could do anything? We’ll be fine. Really.” 

Jongin couldn’t focus on Jongdae’s words, too busy bent over the trunk. He spouted incoherent words, sobbing as if his heart would never stop breaking as he begged them to _run_ and save themselves. As the timer continued to tick, he degenerated into a stream of frantic repetitions. 

 _No, no, no, no, no…_  

He didn’t even get a chance to hug them again, to say thank you again, to say fuck you but see you tomorrow again.

The hologram glitched as Jongin banged his bracelet against the trunk in frustration. Jongdae and Sehun didn’t notice, too busy staring at each other with the softest gazes Jongin had ever seen. Jongdae’s hand curled around the back of Sehun’s head, and he kissed him before looking directly into the screen.

“Jongin,” Jongdae smiled, “We l—” 

Then the speakers rattled from the force, the burst of an explosion, causing the video to crackle, the life to flicker out. Jongin’s breath caught in his throat, and he could not breathe as he tapped his wrist several times to redial the call. But after trying for minutes and minutes, they never came back. He couldn’t make them come back. 

Finally, Jongin let out a strangled scream as he collapsed to the floor, clutching at his chest, unable to bear it all. He screamed until his voice was hoarse, and in this dark hour, this lowest moment, he thought about driving the car into the ocean just to spite the mechanic on their behalf. But that would be too easy. Too easy.

Jongin laid on the ground, unable to do anything more than feel the blood run down his hand after it had snagged on a sharp edge of the trunk. He squeezed his fist while blood stained his skin, tears stained his cheeks, and love stained his heart.

He stayed like this for hours, and even as he lay here, thinking the sun would never rise again, he promised to live.  

To live for them. 

Live when they couldn’t.

 

 

ϟ

 

 

“That’s it,” Jongin said, slowly breathing in and out to calm himself down, “That’s all there is. Are we done now?” 

“You’re certain that that’s all?” the Director said after a pause, “And you’re telling the truth?” 

“Yes,” Jongin said, a tear slipping down his cheek. He leaned back to stare at the lights, not wanting to cry in front of the Director. But it was too late. He’d already seen.

“You’re crying? Why?” the Director asked 

“I have something in my eye,” Jongin said, letting out a soft chuckle when the room was suddenly bathed in scarlet. 

“The truth, Jongin,” the Director flatly said, “Even now, you still resist?” 

“I don’t know,” Jongin said, staring at the lamp above him, This one didn’t look anything like a spotlight, but if Jongin squinted, maybe it could’ve passed for a little sun. “Sometimes I wish I spent more time with some people and less time with others. I’d like it if everyone I loved would be with me all the time, but we can’t have that, can we?”

“You’ve grown attached,” the Director said, “I see it now. Repeating these memories has made you sad.” 

“I have no reason to be sad over two people, two assassins I only knew for about a month,” Jongin said, feeling another tear slipping down his cheek. He breathed, exhaled hard, and focused on maintaining his composure. “Therefore their deaths mean nothing.” 

This time, he checked the monitor himself, and knew that was a lie too big to hide after the room turned red. 

Jongin needed to retake control of the situation. Things couldn’t go badly, this badly if he was so close to the end. 

“I’m asking you one more time. Is there anything else you want to know, or is that all? Because I’m done. I have nothing else to say otherwise,” Jongin said. 

In the years past when Jongin proposed this question, the Director asked nonstop questions until Jongin fell asleep. But this year, perhaps the Director wasn’t in the mood, or perhaps he, like Jongin, didn’t have the energy for it. But for whatever reason, Jongin wasn’t complaining as the Director dismissed him. 

“Yes. That is all,” the Director said, turning away from Jongin and showing is back to him. He had displayed the results of the interrogation on the screen and studied them intently. Jongin stared at a brief summary of every lie, every heartbeat, every truth he had before the door opened and two androids walked inside. 

They approached Jongin with raised hands, but he was not afraid of their touch now, almost wanting to thank them as they released him from the lie detector that had been suffocating him for the past few hours. Jongin gasped, sagging in his chair for a moment and doing nothing but breathe before he poked one of the android’s arms. 

“Hi Seulgi,” he whispered. There wasn’t a chance the Director heard him anyways, as he was too busy struggling to understand and analyze Jongin’s results.

The android that was once Seulgi said nothing, only turned to blankly look at Jongin before wheeling the lie detector out of the room. 

Jongin stood and stretched, a bit of bitterness souring his relief of finishing the interrogation. It was such a pity. Joohyun had stayed with Seulgi, having worked in the android department for the last three years 

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be taking these pictures,” Jongin said, opening the folder in front of him and snatching his personal pictures out. He walked towards the door ready to fall right asleep, but he still kept his chin up and his shoulders straight for appearance’s sake. It was better to show that this interrogation didn’t take its toll every time, that he suffered little. That this meant nothing when it meant everything. 

Jongin opened the door and stood on the other side of the glass, watching the Director place his hands on his head and fail to comprehend everything Jongin had just said. He heard footsteps beside him and asked without looking because he already knew. 

“So how did I do?” Jongin asked. 

“You’re getting better at this every year.” 

“You’re getting more reckless every year,” Jongin lightly chided, “I know you delete bits of his memory every year during the system upgrade and server maintenances, but really? Making him forget his head was blown open? That was difficult to work with.” 

“Well, I know you can handle it.” 

Jongin finally turned around and smiled when he saw Yixing, who had picked up his hand and began playing with it. 

“Thanks for doing this,” Jongin said, “To help Jongdae, Sehun…and me.” 

“Please,” Yixing shook his head, “I’m doing this to help myself, too, you know. He wouldn’t like it if he knew I was the one that blew every circuit in his head wide open.”

Why he was forced to re-download his memory from his backup flash drives. Why he had forgotten key events after someone deleted important memories from his drive. 

“I can’t believe you really scared me two times into thinking you were an actual murderer,” Jongin said. 

Yixing smiled before led the conversation towards something lighter. Only marginally so. 

“How’s work?” he asked, “Anything you need, it’s yours. Anyone you need, I’m yours.” 

“Good,” Jongin said, hating how easily his heart fluttered as he listened to Yixing, “I’m working on a case right now that might disrupt a country’s election, but. You know. The job is the job. 

Jongin no longer worked for A.S.S or for D.O.U.C.H.E but now hunted for politicians and rich people who hired assassins to kill whoever they wanted because they had the money and means to do so.

“If you need back-up, you know where to find me,” Yixing said. 

“Yeah. Down the hall on the same building,” Jongin said with a smile before he changed the subject again after feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion finally hit him, “Can I have my things?” 

“Yes, of course,” Yixing said, reaching into a bin and pulling out a clear bag containing Jongin’s belongings that the Director had confiscated. Jongin removed the contents of the bag, placed them on the ledge of the window panel, and slid the pictures into the bag to safeguard them. 

Once Yixing saw the photos Jongin had slipped inside, he let out a laugh. 

“I truly believe the only reason why we’re able to get away with so much is that he was programmed to be stupid,” Yixing said, taking the photos from Jongin to look closer. 

“Shame on him. Good for us,” Jongin said, shoving his wallet and phone into his back pocket. 

“Dinner tonight?” Yixing asked.

Jongin checked his bracelet. 

“It’s 5AM,” Jongin said. He’d been in there for nearly 24 hours. 

“Oh,” Yixing said, sheepishly putting a hand behind his head. But that was nothing. Sometimes they’d have dinner in the morning, breakfast at night. Ice cream in the morning, waffles at night. It didn’t matter what time it was or what they were eating. If they were together, then things felt right. 

“Tomorrow. Find me tomorrow,” Jongin nodded, wrapping a knitted maroon scarf around his neck. 

“I’m sorry we have to do this every year,” Yixing said with a wince. 

“It’s okay,” Jongin said, pinching the edges of the scarf between his fingers, “Every year we take a bit out of his memory during system upgrades, and who knows? In ten years, he’ll forget this ever happened.” 

All Jongin had to do was survive an interrogation, and the Director would walk away with one GB or TB less of information. And then they’d be free. 

All of them.

“See you tomorrow,” Yixing said. He couldn’t resist and pressed a quick kiss to Jongin’s cheeks before striding towards the door of the interrogation room. He winked one last time before opening it and heading inside to check on the Director. 

Jongin felt his cheeks heat up and pulled the scarf over his mouth as he walked towards the exit. Now that he was alone, he let the fatigue hit him full force. But he had a meeting later, so he forced himself to stay awake and head home safely. 

As he walked out the front doors, he stopped in his tracks as dawn greeted him, streaks of red and pink shattering the night. Red had never looked so beautiful. 

Jongin had enough driving forever, so he walked back all the way home. At these hours, no one else was outside on the streets. Maybe just the people who had a long commute to work or the people who couldn’t sleep. Certain he wouldn’t disrupt anyone, Jongin selected a song and blasted it from his bracelet. It was a rock banger, a punk anthem with catchy bass, energetic drumming, and a familiar voice spitting out lyrics with confidence and a hint of smug arrogance. With the music blasting as loud as he dared, Jongin danced his way home, swinging over poles, leaping over cracks on the sidewalk, twirling on the pavement while he waited for the red light to turn green. 

After he danced his way past a department store, he caught a reflection of himself in the glass, hands spread, arms raised, red scarf trailing behind him flapping in the air. He was flying for a moment, soaring for a second, but when he remembered everything, he fell, landed on the ground feet first, crashed into reality heart first. 

Suddenly he felt tears prick his eyes after remembering those last moments over and over again. He should’ve done better. He should’ve told them more, said more, loved more before those bombs went off. 

After the last echoes of the heavier songs faded, he chose a rock ballad, a slow song with that same voice crooning out sweet lyrics. Jongin hummed as he entered his apartment building, nodding in greeting to the android guard. There weren’t many of them left. People weren’t comfortable with them after someone had leaked what they really were, and the government had begun to deactivate some from the societal pressure. A few remained, designed to do what they were supposed to. 

Along the way, he tiptoed past the hallway to his apartment, remembering he should have been quieter. He was about to hastily turn off his music before the door of his neighbor’s apartment opened. She glared at Jongin for a moment, and he smiled as he handled the situation.  

“Good morning,” Jongin said, “Sorry if that woke you.” 

“You’re finally home?” she asked, peering at him up and down, “I thought you died or something.” 

“Sorry about the music,” Jongin said. 

The woman sniffed. 

“Don’t apologize,” she said, “Play it louder. Live as loudly as you want.” 

With that, she slammed the door, no doubt waking the rest of their neighbors. Jongin breathed, squared his shoulders, and opened the door to his apartment. He had a habit of waiting by the door, waiting for some unannounced visitors sitting on the couch. But of course there was no one now, and after a moment, Jongin turned on the living room lights with a sigh to reveal an empty apartment.

Jongin placed his wallet and keys on the table next to the hallway before carefully reframing all the photos that the Director and his team had taken. He stood back and smiled, a few thoughts scrambling through his mind. 

His niece was so pretty.

He’d have to call all his sisters sometime soon.

His mother was probably worried he hadn’t called in 24 hours, but he’d call soon. 

Then he trudged towards the couch and sank into the cushions, relishing how good it felt to sink into the seat. He was ready to fall asleep, but he forced his eyes wide open, thinking of anything to keep him awake. Jongin stretched and yawned several times in a row before noticing the pile of mail waiting for him on the coffee table. He hadn’t gotten a chance to look through it yesterday since he’d been ushered in for interrogation. 

The first letter was a bill.  

Jongin squinted at the text, realizing he’d have to get his eyes checked soon again and pulled out his glasses from the table and put them on to read the small text. 

Reminder for rent to be paid in a few weeks…Some flyer regarding a building meeting for everyone on the floor. He probably wouldn’t go.

Then there was a blank envelope that he curiously picked up. But before he could open it, he let it fall to his lap as he pressed his fingers over his mouth and finally cried, allowing the weight of reliving everything to take its toll. 

After a while, after the blurry stars in his eyes faded, Jongin finally picked up the envelope on his lap and wiped away a few stray tears. He opened it to find some pictures inside. The first one showed a small child dressed in a yellow dress with embroidered sunflowers. She was bigger than the last time he had seen her.

“You’re fucking dead,” Jongin said, a small laugh bubbling out as he watched the child run towards outstretched arms. The rest of the person wasn’t in view, but Jongin tapped his glasses to zoom into the picture and caught a flash of something bright. Silver light and a red ruby ring on the fourth finger. 

“That’s what everyone says. What everyone thinks. You’re both dead, and it’s so lonely without you,” Jongin hoarsely said to himself. 

But then, all of the sudden, red letters flashed from the lens of his glasses, and as Jongin read the words, he laughed until he cried.

 

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT LMAO?

WE’RE LIVING RIGHT NOW, MXFXCKER 

 

 


End file.
